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The Frontispiece is a copy of the engraving by Albert 
Durer, which gave rise to the Romance of Sintram and his 
Companions, and in this point of view it will not be deemed 
out of place in the present illustrated edition. Fouque thus 
writes in the postscript to Sintram : — 

" Several years ago there lay among my birthday gifts a beau- 
tiful engraving by Albrecht Durer : — A knight in full armour, of 
an elderly appearance, rode along on his tall steed, accompanied by 
his dog, through a dreadful valley, where rocky clefts and roots of 
trees twisted themselves into horrid shapes ; while poisonous fungi 
grew from the earth, and noxious reptiles crawled about among 
them. Near him rode Death, on a lean, miserable horse; and 
behind, a demon-form reached forth its clawed arm after him : 
horse and dog looked strange and fearful, as if infected with the 
poisonous influence of the horrors around; but the knight rode on 
his way peacefully, carrying on his lance's point an already impaled 
lizard. In the distance a castle, with its noble friendly battlements, 
looked down upon him, causing the awful solitariness of the valley 
to press still more heavily upon his soul. My friend, Edward Hit- 
zig, the donor, had added a note, requesting me to illustrate these 
enigmatical figures in a ballad. The task was not allotted me, 
however, at that time, nor for long after; but I carried about the 
picture continually in my mind, through peace and war, until it 
has now distinctly spun and fashioned itself out before me ; but, 
instead of a ballad, it has become a little romance, if the friendly 
reader will accept it as such. 

" Fouque.'' 

It may be added that the original intention of the artist 
in this remarkable design has never been ascertained. 



a 3nu<tratton<. ^f^. 




~v> 



DRAWN BY H. C. SELOUS. 



PAGE 

The Midnight Feast in the Castle of Drontheim ... 1 

The German Merchants attacked in Biorn's Castle . . .35 

The unknown Warrior on Niflung's Heath . 42 

Folko and Gabrielle, — Sintram with his Lute . . . .48 

Sintram musing on the Sea-shore 50 

Folko attacked by the Bear, and rescued by Sintram . . .72 

"Watching by the dead Body of the Castellan . . . .86 

Folko destroying the Golden Boar's Head 90 

Sintram putting the Tempter to flight t 104 

I 

Closing Scene: Sintram, Engeltram, the German Merchants, &c. 120 







N the high castle of Drontheim 
many knights sat assembled to 
hold council for the weal of th'e 

"realnyj.-and joyously they ca- 
roused together till midnight 
around the huge stone table in 
the vaulted hall. A rising storm 
drove the snow wildly against 
the rattling windows; all the oak 
doors groaned, the massive locks 
shook, the castle-clock slowly 






Z S1KTJRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

and heavily struck the hour of one. Then a boy, pale aa 
death, with disordered hair and closed eyes, rushed into the 
hall, uttering a wild scream of terror. He stopped beside 
the richly carved seat of the mighty Biorn, clung to tho 
glittering knight with both his hands, and shrieked in a 
piercing voice, " Knight and father! father and knight! 
Death and another are closely pursuing me!" 

An awful stillness lay like ice on the whole assembly, 
save that the boy screamed ever the fearful words. But 
one of Biorn's numerous retainers, an old esquire, known 
by the name of Rolf the Good, advanced towards the ter- 
rified child, took him in his arms, and half chanted this 
prayer : " O Father, help Thy servant ! I believe, and yet 
I cannot believe." The boy, as if in a dream, at once 
loosened his hold of the knight ; and the good Rolf bore 
him from the hall unresisting, yet still shedding hot tears 
and murmuring confused sounds. 

The lords and knights looked at one another much 
amazed, until the mighty Biorn said, wildly and fiercely 
laughing, " Marvel not at that strange boy. He is my 
only son ; and has been thus since he was ^ve years old : 
he is now twelve. T am therefore accustomed to see him 
so ; though, at the first, I too was disquieted by it. The 
attack comes upon him only once in the year, and always 
at this same time. But forgive me for having spent so 
many words on my poor Sintram, and let us pass on to 
some worthier subject for our discourse." 

Again there was silence for a while ; then whisperingly 
and doubtfully single voices strove to renew their brokeri- 
off discourse, but without success. Two of the youngest 
and most joyous began a roundelay; but the storm howled 
and raged so wildly without, that this too was soon inter- 
rupted. And now they all sat silent and motionless in 
the lofty hall ; the lamp flickered sadly under the vaulted 
roof; the whole party of knights looked like pale, lifeless 
images dressed up in gigantic armour. 

Then arose the chaplain of the castle of Drontheim, the 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 6 

only priest among the knightly throng, and said, u Dear 
Lord Biorn, our eyes and thoughts have all been directed 
to you and your son in a wonderful manner 5 but so it has 
been ordered by the providence of God. You perceive that 
we cannot withdraw them ; and you would do well to tell 
us exactly what you know concerning the fearful state of 
the boy. Perchance the solemn tale, which I expect from 
you, might do good to this disturbed assembly." 

Biorn cast a look of displeasure on the priest, and an- 
swered, " Sir chaplain, you have more share in the history 
than either you or I could* desire. Excuse me, if I am 
unwilling to trouble these light-hearted warriors with so 
rueful a tale." 

But the chaplain approached nearer to the knight, and 
said, in a firm yet very mild tone, " Dear lord, hitherto it 
rested with you alone to relate, or not to relate it ; but now 
'that you have so strangely hinted at the share which I have 
had in your son's calamity, I must positively demand that 
you will repeat word for word how every thing came to 
pass. My honour will have it so, and that will weigh with 
you as much as with me." 

In stern compliance Biorn bowed his haughty head, 
#nd began the following narration. " This time seven 
years I was keeping the Christmas-feast with my assem- 
bled followers. We have many venerable old customs 
which have descended to us by inheritance from our great 
forefathers ; as, for instance, that of placing a gilded boars 
head on the table, and making thereon knightly vows of 
daring and wondrous deeds. Our chaplain here, who used 
then frequently to visit me, was never a friend to keeping 
up such traditions of the ancient heathen world. Such men 
as he were not much in favour in those olden times." 

" My excellent predecessors/' interrupted the chaplain, 
" belonged more to God than to the world, and with Him 
they were in favour. Thus they converted your ancestors ; 
and if I can in like manner be of service to you, even your 
jeering will not vex me." 



4 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

With looks yet darker, and a somewhat angry shudder, 
the knight resumed : " Yes, yes ; I know all your promises 
and threats of an invisible Power, and how they are meant 
to persuade us to part more readily with whatever of this 
world's goods we may possess. Once, ah, truly, once I too 
had such ! Strange ! — Sometimes it seems to me as though 
ages had passed over since then, and as if I were alone the 
survivor, so fearfully is every thing changed. But now I 
bethink me, that the greater part of this noble company 
knew me in my happiness, and have seen my wife, my 
lovely Verena." 

He pressed his hands on his eyes, and it seemed as 
though he wept. The storm had ceased ; the soft light 
of the moon shone through the windows, and her beams 
played on his wild features. Suddenly he started up, so 
that his heavy armour rattled with a fearful sound, and he 
cried out in a thundering voice, " Shall I turn monk, as 
she has become a nun ? No, crafty priest ; your webs are 
too thin to catch flies of my sort/' 

" I have nothing to do with webs," said the chaplain. 
" In all openness and sincerity have I put heaven and hell 
before you during the space of six years ; and you gave 
full consent to the step which the holy Verena took. But 
what all that has to do with your son's sufferings I know 
not, and I wait for your narration." 

" You may wait long enough," said Biorn, with a 
sneer. " Sooner shall " 

" Swear not !" said the chaplain in a loud commanding 
tone, and his eyes flashed almost fearfully. 

" Hurra !" cried Biorn in wild affright ; " hurra ! 
Death and his companion are loose!" and he dashed 
madly out of the chamber and down the steps. The rough 
and fearful notes of his horn were heard summoning his 
retainers ; and presently afterwards the clatter of horses' 
feet on the frozen court-yard gave token of their departure. 

The knights retired, silent and shuddering ; while the 
chaplain remained alone at the huge stone table, praying. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



CHAPTER II. 

After some time the good Rolf returned with slow and 
soft steps, and started with surprise at finding the hall 
deserted. The chamber where he had been occupied in 
quieting and soothing the unhappy child was in so distant 
a part of the castle that he had heard nothing of the 
knight's hasty departure. The chaplain related to him 
all that had passed, and then said, " But my good Rolf, 
I much wish to ask you concerning those strange words 
with which you seemed to lull poor Sin tram to rest. They 
sounded like sacred words, and no doubt they are ; but I 
could not understand them. 1 1 believe, and yet 1 cannot 
'believe.' " 

"Reverend sir," answered Ro^f, " I remember that 
from my earliest years no history in the Gospels has taken 
such hold of me as that of the child possessed with a devil, 
which the disciples were not able to cast out ; but when 
our Saviour came down from the mountain where He had 
been transfigured, He broke the bonds wherewith the evil 
spirit had held the miserable child bound. I always felt 
as if I must have known and loved that boy, and been his 
play-fellow in his happy days; and when I grew older, 
then the distress of the father on account of his lunatic son 
lay heavy at my heart. It must surely have all been a 
foreboding of our poor young Lord Sintram, whom I love 
as if he were my own child ; and now the words of the 
weeping father in the Gospel often come into my mind, — 
1 Lord, I believe ; help Thou my unbelief;' and something 
similar I may very likely have repeated to-day as a chant 
or a prayer. Reverend father, when I consider how one 
dreadful imprecation of. the father has kept its withering 
hold on the son, all seems dark before me ; but, God be 
praised! my faith and my hope remain above." 



O SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

" Good Rolf," said the priest, " I cannot clearly un- 
derstand what you say about the unhappy Sintram ; 
for I do not know when and how this affliction came 
upon him. If no oath or solemn promise bind you to se- 
crecy, will you make known to me all that is connected 
with it?" 

" Most willingly," replied Rolf. u I have long desired 
to have an opportunity of so doing ; but you have been 
almost always separated from us. I dare not now leave 
the sleeping boy any longer alone ; and to-morrow, at the 
earliest dawn, I must take him to his father. Will you 
come with me, dear sir, to our poor Sintram ?" 

The chaplain at once took up the small lamp which 
Rolf had brought with him, and they set off together 
through the long vaulted passages. In the small distant 
chamber they found the poor boy fast asleep. The light 
of the lamp fell strangely on his very pale face. The 
chaplain stood gazing at him for some time, and at length 
said : " Certainly from his birth his features were always 
sharp and strongly marked, but now they are almost fear- 
fully so for such a child ; and yet no one can help hav- 
ing a kindly feeling towards him, whether he will or 
not." 

" Most true, dear sir," answered Rolf. And it was evi- 
dent how his whole heart rejoiced at any word which be- 
tokened affection for his beloved young lord. Thereupon 
he placed the lamp where its light could not disturb the 
boy, and seating himself close by the priest, he began to 
speak in the following terms : — " During that Christmas- 
feast of which my lord was talking to you, he and his fol- 
lowers discoursed much concerning the German merchants, 
and the best means of keeping down the increasing pride 
and power of the trading-towns. At length Biorn laid his 
impious hand on the golden boar's head, and swore to put 
to death without mercy every German trader whom fate, 
in what way soever, might bring alive into his power. 
The gentle Verena turned pale, and would have interposed 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. / 

— but it was too late, the bloocty word was uttered. And 
immediately afterwards, as though the great enemy of souls 
were determined at once to secure with fresh bonds the 
vassal thus devoted to him, a warder came into the hall to 
announce that two citizens of a trading-town in Germany, ' 
an old man and his son, had been shipwrecked on this coast, 
and were now without the gates, asking hospitality of the 
lord of the castle. The knight conld not refrain from shud- 
dering ; but he thought himself bound by his rash vow and 
by that accursed heathenish golden boar. We, his retainers, 
were commanded to assemble in the castle-yard, armed 
with sharp spears, which were to be hurled at the defence- 
less strangers at the first signal made to us. For the first, 
and I trust the last time in my life, I said ; No' to the com- 
mands of my lord ; and that I said in a loud voice, and 
with the heartiest determination. The Almighty, who 
alone knows whom He will accept, and whom He will 
reject, armed me with resolution and strength. And Biorn 
might perceive whence the refusal of his faithful old servant 
arose, and that it w T as worthy of respect. He said to me, 
half in anger and half in scorn : • Go up to my wife's 
apartments: her attendants are running to and fro, per- 
haps she is ill. Go up, Rolf the Good, I say to thee, and 
so women shall be with women/ 1 thought to myself, 
6 Jeer on, then ;' and I went silently the way that he had 
pointed out to me. On the stairs there met me two 
strange and right fearful beings, whom I had never seen 
before; and I know not how they got into the castle. 
One of them was a great, tall man, frightfully pallid and 
thin ; the other was a dwarf-] ike man, with a most hideous 
countenance and features, Indeed, when I collected my 
thoughts and looked carefully at him, it appeared to 

me " 

Low moanmgs and convulsive movements of the boy 
here interrupted the narrative. Rolf and the chaplain 
hastened to his bed-side, and perceived that his counte- 
nance wore an expression of fearful agony, and that he 



8 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

was struggling in vain to open his eyes. The priest made 
the Sign of the Cross over him, and immediately peace 
seemed to be restored, and his sleep again became quiet : 
they both returned softly to their seats. 

" You see," said Rolf, " that it will not do to describe 
more closely those two awful beings. Suffice it to say, 
that they went down into the court-yard, and that I pro- 
ceeded to my lady's apartments. I found the gentle 
Verena almost fainting with terror and overwhelming 
anxiety, and I hastened to restore her with some of those 
remedies which I was able to apply by my skill, through 
God's gift and the healing virtues of herbs and minerals. 
But scarcely had she recovered her senses, when, with that 
calm holy power which, as you know, is hers, she desired 
me to conduct her down to the court-yard, saying that she 
must either put a stop to the fearful doings of this night, 
or herself fall a sacrifice. Our way took us by the little 
bed of the sleeping Sintram. Alas! hot tears fell from 
my eyes to see how evenly his gentle breath then came 
and went, and how sweetly he smiled in his peaceful 
slumbers. " 

The old man put his hands to his eyes, and wept 
bitterly ; but soon he resumed his sad story. " As we 
approached the lowest window of the staircase, we could 
hear distinctly the voice of the elder merchant ; and on 
looking out, the light of the torches shewed me his noble 
features, as well as the bright youthful countenance of his 
son. * I take Almighty God to witness/ cried he, i that I 
had no evil thought against this house ! But surely I must 
have fallen unawares amongst heathens ; it cannot be that 
I am in a Christian knight's castle ; and \f you are indeed 
heathens, then kill us at once. And thou, my beloved 
son, be patient and of good courage ; in heaven we shall 
learn wherefore it could not be otherwise.' I thought I 
could see those two fearful ones amidst the throng of re- 
tainers. The pale one had a huge curved sword in his hand, 
the little one held a spear notched in a strange fashion. 



3INTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. \) 

Verena tore open the window, and cried in silvery tones 
through the wild night, ' My dearest lord and husband, for 
the sake of your only child, have pity on those harmless 
men ! Save them from death, and resist the temptation 
of the evil spirit/ The knight answered in his fierce 
wra th — Du t I cannot repeat his words. He staked his 
child on the desperate cast ; he called Death and the Devil 
to see that he kept his word : — but hush ! the boy is again 
moaning. Let me bring the dark tale quickly to a close. 
Biorn commanded his followers to strike, casting on them 
those fierce looks which have gained him the title of Biorn 
of the Fiery Eyes ; while at the same time the two fright- 
ful strangers bestirred themselves very busily. Then Ve- 
rena called out, with piercing anguish, ' Help, God, my 
Saviour!' Those two dreadful figures disappeared; and 
the knight and his retainers, as if seized with blindness, 
rushed wildly one against the other, but without doing 
injury to themselves, or yet being able to strike the mer- 
chants, who ran so close a risk. They bowed reverently 
towards Verena, and with calm thanksgivings departed 
through the castle-gates, which at that moment had been 
burst open by a violent gust of wind, and now gave a free 
passage to any who would go forth. The lady and I were 
yet standing bewildered on the stairs, when I fancied I 
saw the two fearful forms glide close by me, but mist-like 
and unreal. Verena called to me : ' Rolf, did you see a 
tall pale man, and a little hideous one with him, pass just 
now up the staircase V I flew after them ; and found, 
alas, the poor boy in the same state in which you saw him 
a few hours ago. Ever since, the attack has come on him 
regularly at tnis time, and he is in all respects fearfully 
changed. The lady of the castle did not fail to discern 
the avenging hand of Heaven in this calamity ; and as the 
knight, her husband, instead of repenting, ever became 
more truly Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, she resolved, in the 
walls of a cloister, by unremitting prayer, to obtain mercy 
in time and eternity for herself and her unhappy child." 



10 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

Rolf was silent ; and the chaplain, after some thought, 
said : si I now understand why, six years ago, Biorn con- 
fessed his guilt to me in general words, and consented 
that his wife should take the veil. Some faint com- 
punction must then have stirred within him, and perhaps 
may stir him yet. At any rate it was impossible that so 
tender a flower as Verena could remain longer in so rough 
keeping. But who is there now to watch over and protect 
our poor Sintram ?" 

" The prayer of his mother," answered Rolf. " Rever- 
end sir, when the first dawn of day appears, as it does 
now, and when the morning breeze whispers through the 
glancing window, they ever bring to my mind the soft 
beaming eyes of my lady, and I again seem to hear the 
sweet tones of her voice. The holy Verena is, next to 
God, our chief aid." 

" And let us add our devout supplications to the Lord," 
said the chaplain ; and he and Rolf knelt in silent and 
earnest prayer by the bed of the pale sufferer, who began 
to smile in his dreams. 



CHAPTER 111. 

♦ 

The rays of the sun shining brightly into the room awoke 
Sintram, and raising himself up, he looked angrily at the 
chaplain, and said, " So there is a priest in the castle ! 
And yet that accursed dream continues to torment me 
even in his very presence. Pretty priest he must be!" 

" My child," answered the chaplain in the mildest 
tone, " I have prayed for thee most fervently, and I shall 
never cease doing so — but God alone is Almighty." 

" You speak very boldly to the son of the knight 
Biorn," cried Sintram. "'My child!' If those horrible 
dreams had not been again haunting me, you would make 
me laugh hearti]y." 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 11 

"-Young Lord Sintram," said the chaplain, " I am by 
no means surprised that you do not know me again ; for, 
in truth, neither do I know you again." And his eyes 
filled with tears as he spoke. 

The good Rolf looked sorrowfully in the boy's face, 
saying, "Ah, my dear young master, you are so much 
better than you would make people believe. Why do 
you that? Your memory is so good, that you must surely 
recollect your kind old friend the chaplain, who used 
formerly to be constantly at the castle, and to bring you 
so many gifts — bright pictures of saints, and beautiful 
songs V 

" I know all that very well," replied Sintram thought- 
fully. " My sainted mother was alive in those days." 

" Our gracious lady is still living, God be praised!" 
said the good Rolf. 

" But she does not live for us, poor sick creatures 
that we are !" cried Sintram. " And why will you not 
call her sainted ? Surely she knows nothing about my 
dreams ?" 

" Yes, she does know of them," said the chaplain ; 
" and she prays to God for you. But take heed, and re- 
strain that wild, haughty temper of yours. It might, 
indeed, come to pass that she would know nothing about 
your dreams, and that would be if your soul were sepa- 
rated from your body; and then the holy angels also 
would cease to know any thing of you." 

Sintram fell back on his bed as if thunderstruck ; and 
Rolf said, with a gentle sigh, " You should not speak so 
severely to my poor sick child, reverena sir. 5 ' 

The boy sat up, and with tearful eyes he turned caress- 
ingly towards the chaplain : " Let him do as he pleases, 
you good tender-hearted Rolf; he knows very well what 
he is about. Would you reprove him if I were slipping 
down a snowcleft, and he caught me up roughly by the 
hair of my head?" 

The jojiest looked tenderly at him, and would have 



12 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

spoken his holy thoughts, when Sintram suddenly sprang 
off the bed and asked after his father. As soon as he 
heard of the knight's departure, he would not remain 
another hour in the castle ; and put aside the fears of the 
chaplain and the old esquire, lest a rapid journey should 
injure his hardly restored health, by saying to them, 
" Believe me, reverend sir, and dear old Rolf, if I were 
not subject to these hideous dreams, there would not be a 
bolder youth in the whole world ; and even as it is, I am 
not so far behind the very best. Besides, till another year 
has passed, my dreams are at an end." 

On his somewhat imperious sign Rolf brought out the 
horses. The boy threw himself boldly into the saddle, 
and taking a courteous leave of the chaplain, he dashed 
along the frozen valley that lay between the snow-clad 
mountains. He had not ridden far, in company with his 
old attendant, when he heard a strange indistinct sound 
proceeding from a neighbouring cleft in the rock ; it was 
partly like the clapper of a small mill, but mingled with 
that were hollow groans and other tones of distress. Thi- 
ther they turned their horses, and a wonderful sight shewed 
itself to them. 

A tall man, deadly pale, in a pilgrim's garb, was striv- 
ing with violent though unsuccessful efforts, to work his 
way out of the snow and to climb up the mountain ; and 
thereby a quantity of bones, which were hanging loosely 
all about his garments, rattled one against the other, and 
caused the mysterious sound already mentioned. Rolf, 
much terrified, crossed himself, while the bold Sintram 
called out to the stranger, " What art thou doing there ? 
Give an account of thy solitary labours." 

" I live in death," replied that other one with a fearful 
grin. 

" Whose are those bones on thy clothes?" 

" They are relies, young sir." 

" Art thou a pilgrim ?" 

" Restless, quietless, I wander up arid down." 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 13 

"Thou must not perish here in the snow before my 
eyes." 

" That I will not." 

" Thou must come up and sit on my horse." 

u That I will." And all at once he started up out of 
the snow with surprising strength and agility, and sat on 
the horse behind Sintram, clasping him tight in his long 
arms. The horse, startled by the rattling of the bones, 
and as if seized with madness, rushed away through the 
most trackless passes. The boy soon found himself alone 
with his strange companion ; for Rolf, breathless with fear, 
spurred on his horse in vain, and remained far behind 
them. ' From a snowy precipice the horse slid, without 
falling, into a narrow gorge, somewhat indeed exhausted, 
yet continuing to snort and foam as before, and still un- 
mastered by the boy. Yet his headlong course being now 
changed into a rough irregular trot, Sintram was able to 
breathe more freely, and to begin the following discourse 
with his unknown companion. 

" Draw thy garment closer around thee, thou pale man, 
so the bones will not rattle, and I shall be able to curb my 
horse." 

" It would be of no avail, boy; it would be of no avail. 
The bones must rattle." 

u Do not clasp me so tight with thy long arms, they 
are so cold." 

"It cannot be helped, boy; it cannot be helpea. Be 
content. For my long cold arms are not pressing yet on 
thy heart." 

" Do not breathe on me so with thy icy breath. All 
my strength is departing." 

6i I must breathe, boy ; I must breathe. But do not 
complain. I am not blowing thee away." 

The strange dialogue here came to an end ; for to Sin- 
tram's surprise he found himself on an open plain, over 
which the sun was shining brightly, and at no great dis- 
tance before him he saw his father's castle. While he was 



14 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

thinking whether he might invite the unearthly pilgrim to 
rest there, this one put an end to his doubts by throwing 
himself suddenly off the horse, whose wild course was 
checked by the shock. Raising his forefinger, he said to 
the boy, " I know old Biorn of the Fiery Eyes well ; per- 
haps but too well. Commend me to him. It will not 
need to tell him my name ; he will recognise me at the 
description. " So saying, the ghastly stranger turned aside 
into a thick fir- wood, and disappeared rattling amongst the 
tangled branches. 

Slowly and thoughtfully Sin tram rode on towards his 
father's castle, his horse now again quiet and altogether 
exhausted. He scarcely knew how much he ought to 
relate of his wonderful journey, and he also felt oppressed 
with anxiety for the good Rolf, who had remained so far 
behind. He found himself at the castle-gate sooner than 
he had expected ; the drawbridge was lowered, the doors 
were thrown open; an attendant led the youth into the 
great hall, where Biorn was sitting all alone at a huge 
table, with many flagons and glasses before him, and suits 
of armour ranged on either side of him. It was his daily 
custom, by way of company, to have the armour of his 
ancestors, with closed vizors, placed all round the table at 
which he sat. The father and son began conversing as 
follows : 

" Where is Rolf?" 

" I do not know, father ; he left me in the moun- 
tains." 

" I will have Rolf shot, if he cannot take better care 
than that of my only child." 

"Then, father, you will have your only child shot at 
the same time, for without Rolf I cannot live; and if even 
one single dart is aimed at him, I will be there to receive 
it, and to shield his true and faithful heart." 

" So!— Then Rolf shall not be shot; but he shall be 
driven from the castle." 

" In that case, father, you will see me go away also ; 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 15 

and I will give myself up to serve him in forests, in moun- 
tains, in caves." 

" So ! — Well, then, Rolf must remain here." 

" That is just what I think, father." 

" Were you riding quite alone ?" 

"No, father; but with a strange pilgrim. He said 
that he knew you very well — perhaps too well." And 
thereupon Sintram began to relate and to describe all that 
had passed with the pale man. 

" I know him also very well," said Biorn. " He is 
half crazed and half wise, as we sometimes are astonished 
at seeing that people can be. But do thou, my boy, go to 
rest after thy wild journey. I give you my word that Rolf 
shall be kindly received if he arrive here ; and that if he 
do not come soon, he shall be sought for in the moun- 
tains." 

- u 1 trust to your word, father," said Sintram, half 
humble, half proud ; and he did after the command of the 
grim lord of the castle. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Towards evening Sintram awoke. He saw the good 
Rolf sitting at his bedside, and looked up in the old mai^s 
kind face with a smile of unusually innocent brightness. 
But soon again his dark brows were knit, and he asked, 
" How did my father receive you, Rolf? Did he say a 
harsh word to you?" 

" No, my dear young lord, he did not ; indeed he did 
not speak to me at all. At first he looked very wrathful; 
but he checked himself, and ordered a servant to bring me 
food and wine to refresh me, and afterwards to take me to 
your room." 

" He might have kept his w r ord better. But he is my 
father, and I must not judge him too hardly I will now 



16 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

go down to the evening meal." So saying, he sprang up 
and threw on his furred mantle. 

But Rolf stopped him, and said, entreatingly : " My 
dear young master, you would do better to take your meal 
to-day alone here in your own apartment ; for there is a 
guest with your father, in whose company I should be very 
sorry to see you. If you will remain here, I will entertain 
yon with pleasant tales and songs." 

" There is nothing in the world which I should like 
better, dear Rolf," answered Sintram ; " but it does not 
befit me to shun any man. Tell me, whom should I find 
with my father ?" 

" Alas ! ?t said the old man, " you have already found 
him in the mountain. Formerly, when I used to ride about 
the country with Biorn, we often met with him, but I was 
forbidden to tell you any thing about him ; and this is the 
first time that he has ever come to the castle." 

" The crazy pilgrim !" replied Sintram ; and he stood 
awhile in deep thought, as if considering the matter. At 
last, rousing himself, he said : " Dear old friend, I would 
most willingly stay here this evening all alone with you 
and your stories and songs, and all the pilgrims in the 
world should not entice me from this quiet room. But 
one thing must be considered. I feel a kind of dread of 
that pale, tall man ; and by such fears no knight's son can 
ever suffer himself to be overcome. So be not angry, dear 
Rulf, if I determine to go and look that strange palmer in 
the face." And he shut the door of the chamber behind 
him, and with firm and echoing steps proceeded to the hall. 

The pilgrim and the knight were sitting opposite to 
each other at the great table, on which many lights were 
burning; and it was fearful, amongst all the lifeless ar- 
mour, to see those two tall grim men move, and eat, and 
drink. 

As the pilgrim looked up on the boy's entrance, Biorn 
said : " You know him already : he is my only child, and 
your fellow-traveller this morning." 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 17 

The palmer fixed an earnest look on Sintram, and 
answered, shaking his head, " I know not what you 
mean." 

Then the boy burst forth, impatiently, " It must be 
confessed that you deal very unfairly by us ! You say that 
you know my father but too much, and now it seems that 
you know me altogether too little. Look me in the face : 
who allowed you to ride on his horse, and in return had 
his good steed driven almost wild ? Speak, if you can !" 

Biorn smiled, shaking his head, but well pleased, as was 
his wont, with his son's wild behaviour ; while the pilgrim 
shuddered as if terrified and overcome by some fearful 
irresistible power. At length, with a trembling voice, he 
said these words : " Yes, yes, my dear young lord, you 
are surely quite right; you are perfectly right in every 
thing which you may please to assert." 

Then the lord of the castle laughed aloud, and said : 
" Why, thou strange pilgrim, what is become of all thy 
wonderfully fine speeches and warnings now? Has the 
boy ail at once struck thee dumb and powerless? Beware, 
thou prophet-messenger, beware \ n 

But the palmer cast a fearful look on Biorn, which 
seemed to quench the light of his fiery eyes, and said 
solemnly, in a thundering voice, " Between me and thee, 
old man, the case stands quite otherwise. We have no- 
thing to reproach each other with. And now suffer me to 
sing a song to you on the lute." He stretched out his 
hand, and took down from the wall a forgotten and half- 
strung lute, which was hanging there; and, with surpris- 
ing skill and rapidity, having put it in a state fit for use, 
he struck some chords, and raised this song to the low 
melancholy tones of the instrument : 

" The flow'ret was mine own, mine own, 
But I have lost its fragrance rare, 
And knightly name and freedom fair, 
Through sin, through sin alone. 
C 



IS SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

The floweret was thine own, thine own, 
Why cast away what thou didst win ? 
Thou knight no more, but slave of sin, 
Thou'rt fearfully alone \" 



a 



Have a care !" shouted he at the close in a pealing 
voice, as he pulled the strings so mightily that they all 
broke with a clanging wail, and a cloud of dust rose from 
the old lute, which spread round him like a mist. 

Sin tram had been watching him narrowly whilst he was 
singing, and more and more did he feel convinced that it 
was impossible that this man and his fellow-traveller of 
the morning could be one and the same. Nay, the doubt 
rose to certainty, when the stranger again looked round 
at him with the same timid, anxious air, and with many 
excuses and low reverences hung the lute in its old place, 
and then ran out of the hall as if bewildered with terror, 
in strange contrast with the proud and stately bearing 
which he had shewn to Biorn. 

The eyes of the boy were now directed to his father, 
and he saw that he had sunk back senseless in his seat, as 
if struck by a blow. Sintram's cries called Kolf and other 
attendants into the hall; and only by great labour did 
their united efforts awake the lord of the castle. His looks 
were still wild and disordered ; but he allowed himself to 
be taken to rest, quiet and yielding. 



CHAPTER V. 

An illness followed this sudden attack ; and during the 
course of it the stout old knight, in the midst of his deliri- 
ous ravings, did not cease to affirm confidently that he 
must and should recover. He laughed proudly when his 
fever-fits came on, and rebuked them for daring to attack 
him so needlessly. Then he murmured to himself, " That 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 19 

was not the right one yet; there must still be another one 
out in the cold mountains. " 

Always at such words Sintram involuntarily shud- 
dered ; they seemed to strengthen his notion that he who 
had ridden with him, and he who had sat at table in the 
castle, were two quite distinct persons ; and he knew not 
why, but this thought was inexpressibly awful to him. 

Biorn recovered, and appeared to have entirely for- 
gotten his adventure with the palmer. He hunted in the 
mountains ; he carried on his usual wild warfare with his 
neighbours; and Sintram, as he grew up, became his 
almost constant companion ; whereby each year a fearful 
strength of body and spirit was unfolded in the youth. 
Every one trembled at the sight of his sharp pallid fea- 
tures, his dark rolling eyes, his tall, muscular, and some- 
what lean form; and yet no one hated him — not even 
., those whom he distressed or injured in his wildest hu- 
mours. This might arise in part out of regard to old Rolf, 
who seldom left him for long, and who always held a soft- 
ening influence over him ; but also many of those who had 
known the Lady Verena while she still lived in the world, 
affirmed that a faint reflection of her heavenly expression 
floated over the very unlike features of her son, and that 
by this their hearts were won. 

Once, just at the beginning of spring, Biorn and his 
son were hunting in the neighbourhood of the sea-coast, 
over a tract of country which did not belong to them ; 
drawn thither less by the love of sport than by the wish of 
bidding defiance to a chieftain whom they detested, and 
thus exciting a feud. At that season of the year, when his 
wintar dreams had just passed oif, Sintram was always 
unusually fierce and disposed for warlike adventures. 
And this day he was enraged at the chieftain for not 
coming in arms from his castle to hinder their hunting ; 
and he cursed, in the wildest words, his tame patience and 
love of peace. Just then one of his wild young com- 
panions rushed towards him, shouting joyfully ; " Be 



20 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

content, my dear young lord ! I will wager that all is 
coming about as we and you wish ; for as I was pursuing 
a wounded deer down to the sea-shore, I saw a sail and a 
vessel filled with armed men making for the shore. Doubt- 
less your enemy purposes to fall upon you from the coast." 

Joyfully and secretly Sintram called all his followers 
together, being resolved this time to take the combat on 
himself alone, and then to rejoin his father, and astonish 
him with the sight of captured foes and other tokens of 
victory. 

•The hunters, thoroughly acquainted with every cliff 
and rock on the coast, hid themselves round the landing- 
place ; and soon the strange vessel hove nearer with swell- 
ing sails, till at length it came to anchor, and its crew 
began to disembark in unsuspicious security. At the head 
of them appeared a knight of high degree, in blue steel 
armour richly inlaid with gold. His head was bare, for 
he carried his costly golden helmet hanging on his left 
arm. He looked royally around him ; and his counte- 
nance, which dark brown locks shaded, was pleasant to 
behold ; and a well-trimmed moustache fringed his mouth, 
from which, as he smiled, gleamed forth two rows of pearl- 
white teeth. 

A feeling came across Sintram that he must already 
have seen this knight somewhere ; and he stood motion- 
less for a few moments. But suddenly he raised his hand, 
to make the agreed signal of attack. In vain did the good 
Kolf, who had just succeeded in getting up to him, whisper 
in his ear that these could not be the foes whom he had 
taken them for, but that they were unknown, and certainly 
high and noble strangers. 

" Let them be who they may," replied the wild youth, 
rf they have enticed me here to wait, and they shall pay 
the penalty of thus fooling me. Say not another word, if 
you value your life." And immediately he gave the sig- 
nal, a thick shower of javelins followed from all sides, and 
the Norwegian warriors rushed forth with flashing swords. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 21 

They found their foes as brave, or somewhat braver, than 
they could have desired. More fell on the side of those 
who made than of those who received the assault; and the 
strangers appeared to understand surprisingly the Norwe- 
gian manner of fighting. The knight in steel armour had 
not in his haste put on his helmet; but it seemed as if 
he in no wise needed such protection, for his good sword 
afforded him sufficient defence even against the spears and 
darts which were incessantly hurled at him, as with rapid 
skill he received them on the shining blade, and dashed 
them far away, shivered into fragments. 

Sintram could not at the first onset penetrate to where 
this shining hero was standing, as all his followers, eager 
after such a noble prey, thronged closely round him ; but 
now the way was cleared enough for him to spring towards 
the brave stranger, shouting a war-cry, and brandishing 
his sword above his head. 

" Gabrielle !" cried the knight, as he dexterously par- 
ried the heavy blow which was descending, and with one 
powerful sword-thrust he laid the youth prostrate on the 
ground ; then placing his knee on Sintram's breast, he 
drew forth a flashing dagger, and held it before his eyes 
as he lay astonished. All at once the men-at-arms stood 
round like walls. Sintram felt that no hope remained for 
him. He determined to die as it became a bold warrior; 
and, without giving one sign of emotion, he looked on the 
fatal weapon with a steady gaze. 

As he lay with his eyes cast upwards, he fancied that 
there appeared suddenly from heaven a wondrously beau- 
tiful female form in a bright attire of blue and gold. 
" Our ancestors told truly of the Valkyrias," murmured 
he. " Strike, then, thou unknown conqueror." 

But with this the knight did not comply, neither was 
it a Valkyria who had so suddenly appeared, but the beau- 
tiful wife of the stranger, who, having advanced to the 
high edge of the vessel, had thus met the upraised look 
of Sintram. 



22 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

"Folko," cried she, in the softest tone, " thou knight 
without reproach ! I know that thou sparest the van- 
quished.' ' 

The knight sprang up, and with courtly grace stretched 
out his hand to the conquered youth, saying, " Thank the 
noble lady of Montfaucon for your life and liberty. But 
if you are so totally devoid of all goodness as to wish to 
resume the combat, here am I ; let it be yours to begin." 

Sintram sank, deeply ashamed, on his knees, and wept ; 
for he had often heard speak of the high renown of the 
French knight Folko of Montfaucon, who was related to 
his father's house, and of the grace and beauty of his gentle 
lady Gabrielle. 



CHAPTER VI. 

The lord of Montfaucon looked with astonishment at his 
strange foe ; and as he gazed on him more and more, re- 
collections arose in his mind of that northern race from 
whom he was descended, and with whom he had always 
maintained friendly relations. A golden bear's claw, with 
which Sintram's cloak was fastened, at length made all 
clear to him. 

"Have you not," said he, "a valiant and far-famed 
kinsman, called the Sea-king Arinbiorn, who carries on his 
helmet golden vulture-wings ? And is not your father the 
knight Biorn ? For surely the bear's claw on your mantle 
must be the cognisance of your house." 

Sintram assented to all this, in deep and humble shame. 

The knight of Montfaucon raised him from the ground, 
and said gravely, yet gently, " We are, then, of kin the 
one to the other ; but I could never have believed that 
any one of our noble house would attack a peaceful man 
without provocation, and that, too, without giving warn- 
ing." 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 23 

"Slay me at once/' answered Sintram, u if indeed I 
am worthy to die by so noble bands. I can no longer 
endure the light of day." 

" Because you have been overcome 2" asked Montfaucon, 

Sintram shook his head. 

" Or is it, rather, because you have committed an 
unknightly action V 9 

The glow of shame that overspread the youth's counte- 
nance said yes to this. 

" But you should not on that account wish to die," 
continued Montfaucon. " You should rather wish to live, 
that you may prove your repentance, and make your name 
illustrious by many noble deeds ; for you are endowed with 
a bold spirit and with strength of limb, and also with the 
eagle-glance of a chieftain. I should have made you a 
knight this very hour, if you had borne yourself as bravely 
in a good cause, as you have just now in a bad. See to it, 
that I may do it soon. You may yet become a vessel of 
high honour." 

A joyous sound of shawms and silver rebecks inter- 
rupted his discourse. The lady Gabrielle, bright as the 
morning, had now come down from the ship, surrounded 
by her maidens ; and, instructed in a few words by Folko 
who was his late foe, she took the combat as some mere 
trial of arms, saying, " You must not be cast down, noble 
youth, because my wedded lord has won the prize ; for be 
it known to you, that in the whole world there is but one 
knight who can boast of not having been overcome by the 
Baron of Montfaucon. And who can say," continued she, 
sportively, " whether even that would have happened, had 
he not set himself to win back the magic ring from me, 
his lady-love, destined to him, as well by the choice of my 
own heart as by the will of Heaven !" 

Folko, smiling, bent his head over the snow-white 
hand of his lady ; and then bade the youth conduct them 
to his father's castle. 

Rolf took upon himself to see to the disembarking of 



24 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

the horses and valuables of the strangers, filled with joy at 
the thought that an angel in woman's form had appeared 
to soften his beloved young master, and perhaps even to 
free him from that early curse. 

Sintram sent messengers in all directions to seek for 
his father, and to announce to him the arrival of his noble 
guests. They therefore found the old knight in his castle, 
with every thing prepared for their reception. Gabrielle 
could not enter the vast, dark-looking building without 
a slight shudder, which was increased when she saw the 
rolling fiery eyes of its lord ; even the pale, dark-haired 
Sintram seemed to her very fearful; and she sighed to 
herself, " Oh ! what an awful abode have you brought me 
to visit, my knight ! Would that we were once again in 
my sunny Gascony, or in your knightly Normandy !" 

But the grave yet courteous reception, the deep respect 
paid to her grace and beauty, and to the high fame of 
Folko, helped to re-assure her; and soon her bird-like 
pleasure in novelties was awakened through the strange 
significant appearances of this new world. And besides, it 
could only be for a passing moment that any womanly 
fears found a place in her breast when her lord was near 
at hand, for well did she know what effectual protection 
that brave Baron was ever ready to afford to all those who 
were dear to him, or committed to his charge. 

Soon afterwards Eolf passed through the great hall in 
which Biorn and his guests were seated, conducting their 
attendants, who had charge of the baggage, to their rooms. 
Gabrielle caught sight of her favourite lute, and desired a 
page to bring it to her, that she might see if the precious 
instrument had been injured by the sea-voyage. As she 
bent over it with earnest attention, and her taper fingers 
ran up and down the strings, a smile, like the dawn of 
spring, passed over the dark countenances of Biorn and his 
son ; and both said, with an involuntary sigh, " Ah ! if 
you would but play on that lute, and sing to it! It 
would be but too beautiful !" The lady looked up at 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 25 

them, well pleased, and smiling her assent, she began this 
song : — 

" Songs and -flowers are returning, 
And radiant skies of May, 
Earth her choicest gifts is yielding, 
But one is past away. 

The spring that clothes with tend'rest green 

Each grove and sunny plain, 
Shines not for my forsaken heart, 

Brings not my joys again. 

Warble not so, thou nightingale, 

Upon thy blooming spray, 
Thy sweetness now will burst my heart, 

I cannot bear thy lay. 

For flowers and birds are come again, 

And breezes mild of May, 
But treasured hopes and golden hours 

Are lost to me for aye !" 

The two Norwegians sat plunged in melancholy thought ; 
but especially Sintram's eyes began to brighten with a 
milder expression, his cheeks glowed, every feature soft- 
ened, till those who looked at him could have fancied they 
saw a glorified spirit. The good Rolf, who had stood lis- 
tening to the song, rejoiced thereat from his heart, and 
devoutly raised his hands in pious gratitude to heaven. 
But Gabrielle's astonishment suffered her not to take her 
eyes from Sin tram. At last she said to him, " I should 
much like to know what has so struck you in that little; 
song. It is merely a simple lay of the spring, full of the 
images which that sweet season never fails to call up in the 
minds of my countrymen. 71 

" But is your home really so lovely, so wondrously rich 
in song ?" cried the enraptured Sintram. " Then I am 
no longer surprised at your heavenly beauty, at the power 
which you exercise over my hard, wayward heart ! For a 



2b SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

paradise of song must surely send such angelic messengers 
through the ruder parts of the world." And so saying, he 
fell on his knees before the lady in an attitude of deep 
humility. Folko looked on all the while with an approving 
smile, whilst Gabrielle, in much embarrassment, seemed 
hardly to know how to treat the half-wild, half-tamed 
young stranger. After some hesitation, however, she held 
out her fair hand to him, and said as she gently raised 
him : " Surely one who listens with such delight to music 
must himself know how to awaken its strains. Take my 
lute, and let us hear a graceful inspired song." 

But Sintram drew back, and would not take the instru- 
ment; and he said, u Heaven forbid that my rough un- 
tutored hand should touch those delicate strings! For 
even were I to begin with some soft strains, yet before 
long the wild spirit which dwells in me would break out, 
and there would be an end of the form and sound of the 
beautiful instrument. No, no; suffer me rather to fetch 
my own huge harp, strung with bears' sinews set in brass, 
for in truth I do feel myself inspired to play and sing." 

Gabrielle murmured a half-frightened assent ; and Sin- 
tram having quickly brought his harp, began to strike 
it loudly, and to sing these words with a voice no less 
powerful : 

11 Sir knight, sir knight, oh ! whither away 
With thy snow-white sail on the foaming spray V 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers I 

" Too long have T trod upon ice and snow; 
I seek the bowers where roses blow." 

Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

He steer' d on his course by night and day 
Till he cast his anchor in Naples Bay. 

Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

There wander'd a lady upon the strand, 
Her fair hair bound with a golden band. 

Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 27 

14 Hail to thee ! hail to thee ! lady bright, 
Mine own shalt thou be ere morning light." 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

" Not so, sir knight," the lady replied, 
" For you speak to the margrave's chosen bride." 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

" Your lover may come with his shield and spear, 
And the victor shall win thee, lady dear !" 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

" Nay, seek for another bride, I pray; 
Most fair are the maidens of Naples Bay." 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

" No, lady ; for thee my heart doth burn, 
And the world cannot now my purpose turn." 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

Then came the young margrave, bold and brave ; 
But low was he laid in a grassy grave. 

Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers ! 

And then the fierce Northman joyously cried, 
" Now shall I possess lands, castle, and bride !" 
Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers I 

Sintram's song was ended, but his eyes glared wildly, 
and the vibrations of the harp-strings still resounded in a 
marvellous manner. Biorn's attitude was again erect ; he 
stroked his long beard and rattled his sword, as if in great 
delight at what be had just heard. Much shuddered Ga- 
brielle before the wild song and these strange forms, but 
only till she cast a glance on the Lord of Montfaucon, who 
sat there smiling in all his hero strength, unmoved, while 
the rough uproar passed by him like an autumnal storm. 



28 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Some weeks after this, in the twilight of evening, Sintram, 
very disturbed, came down to the castle-garden. Although 
the presence of Gabrielle never failed to soothe and calm 
him, yet if she left the apartment for even a few instants, 
the fearful wildness of his spirit seemed to return with 
renewed strength. So even now, after having long and 
kindly read legends of the olden times to his father Biorn. 
she had retired to her chamber. The tones of her lute 
could be distinctly heard in the garden below; but the 
sounds only drove the bewildered youth more impetuously 
through the shades of the ancient elms. Stooping suddenly 
to avoid some over-hanging branches, he unexpectedly came 
upon something against which he had almost struck, and 
which, at first sight, he took for a small bear standing on 
its hind legs, with a long and strangely crooked horn on 
its head. He drew back in surprise and fear. It addressed 
him in a grating man's voice ; " Well, my brave young 
knight, whence come you ? whither go you ? wherefore so 
terrified ?" And then first he saw that he had before him 
a little old man so wrapped up in a rough garment of fur, 
that scarcely one of his features was visible, and wearing 
in his cap a strange-looking long feather. 

" But whence come you ? and whither go youl" re- 
turned the angry Sintram. €t For of you such questions 
should be asked. What have you to do in our domains, 
you hideous little being 1" 

" Well, well," sneered the other one, " I am thinking 
that I am quite big enough as I am — one cannot always 
be a giant. And as to the rest, why should you find fault 
that I go here hunting for snails? Surely snails do not 
belong to the game which your high mightinesses consider 
that you alone have a right to follow ! Now, on the other 
hand, I know how to prepare from them an excellent high- 
flavoured drink; and I have taken enough for to-day: 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 29 

marvellous fat little beasts, with wise faces like a man's, 
and long twisted horns on their heads. Would you like to 
see them ? Look here !" 

And then he began to unfasten and fumble about his 
fur garment ; but Sintram, filled with disgust and horror, 
said, " Psha ! I detest such animals ! Be quiet, and tell 
me at once who and what you yourself are." 

" Are you so bent upon knowing my name ?" replied 
the little man. " Let it content you that I am master ot 
all secret knowledge, and well versed in the most intricate 
depths of ancient history. Ah ! my young sir, if you would 
only hear them ! But you are afraid of me." 

" Afraid of you !" cried Sintram, with a wild laugh. 

"Many a better man than you has been so before 
now," muttered the little Master ; " but they did not like 
being told of it any more than you do." 

" To prove that you are mistaken," said Sintram, " I 
will remain here with you till the moon stands high in the 
heavens. But you must tell me one of your stories the 
while." 

The little man, much pleased, nodded his head ; and as 
they paced together up and down a retired elm-walk, he 
began discoursing as follows : — 

" Many hundred years ago a young knight, called Paris 
of Troy, lived in that sunny land of the south where are 
found the sweetest songs, the brightest flowers, and the 
most beautiful ladies. You know a song that tells of that 
fair land, do you not, young sir? i Sing heigh, sing ho, 
for that land of flowers.'" Sintram bowed his head in 
assent, and sighed deeply. " Now," resumed the little 
Master, "it happened that Paris led that kind of life 
which is not uncommon in those countries, and of which 
their poets often sing — he would pass whole months to- 
gether in the garb of a peasant, piping in the woods and 
mountains, and pasturing his flocks. Here one day three 
beautiful sorceresses appeared to him, disputing about a 
golden apple ; and from him they sought to know which 



30 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

of them was the most beautiful, since to her the golden 
fruit was to be awarded. The first knew how to give 
thrones, and sceptres, and crowns ; the second could give 
wisdom and knowledge ; and the third could prepare 
philtres and love-charms which could not fail of securing 
the affections of the fairest of women. Each one in turn 
proffered her choicest gifts to the young shepherd, in order 
that, tempted by them, he might adjudge the apple to her. 
But as fair women charmed him more than anything else 
in the world, he said that the third was the most beautiful 
— her name was Venus. The two others departed in great 
displeasure ; but Venus bid him put on his knightly armour 
and his helmet adorned with waving feathers, and then she 
led him to a famous city called Sparta, where ruled the 
noble duke Menelaus. His young duchess Helen was the 
loveliest woman on earth, and the sorceress offered her to 
Paris in return for the golden apple. He was most ready 
to have her, and wished for nothing better ; but he asked 
how he was to gain possession of her." 

" Paris must have been a sorry knight/' interrupted 
Sintram. " Such things are easily settled. The husband 
is challenged to a single combat, and he that is victorious 
carries off the wife." 

" But duke Menelaus was the host of the young knight," 
said the narrator. 

" Listen to me, little Master," cried Sintram ; " he 
might have asked the sorceress for some other beautiful 
woman, and then have mounted his horse, or weighed 
anchor, and departed." 

" Yes, yes ; it is very easy to say so," replied the old 
man. " But if you only knew how bewitchingly lovely 
this duchess Helen was, no room was left for change." 
And then he began a glowing description of the charms of 
this wondrously beautiful woman, but likening the image 
to Gabrielle so closely, feature for feature, that Sintram, 
tottering, was forced to lean against a tree. The little 
Master stood opposite to him grinning, and asked, " Well 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 31 

now, could you have advised that poor knight Paris to fly 
from her ?" 

"Tell me at once what happened next/' stammered 
Sintram. 

" The sorceress acted honourably towards Paris," con- 
tinued the old man. " She declared to him that if he 
would carry away the lovely duchess to his own city Troy, 
he might do so, and thus cause the ruin of his whole house 
and of his country ; but that during ten years he would be 
able to defend himself in Troy, and rejoice in the sweet love 
of Helen." 

"And he accepted those terms, or he was a fool!" 
cried the youth. 

"To be sure he accepted them," whispered the little 
Master. " I would have done so in his place ! And do 
you know, young sir, the look of things then was just as 
they are happening to-day. The newly risen moon, partly 
veiled by clouds, was shining dimly through the thick 
branches of the trees in the silence of evening. Leaning 
against an old tree, as you now are doing, stood the young 
enamoured knight Paris, and at his side the enchantress 
Venus, but so disguised and transformed, that she did not 
look much more beautiful than I do. And by the silvery 
light of the moon, the form of^the beautiful beloved one 
was seen sweeping by alone amidst the whispering boughs." 
He was silent, and like as in the mirror of his deluding 
words, Gabrielle just then actually herself appeared, musing 
as she walked alone down the alley of elms. 

" Man, — fearful Master, — by what name shall I call 
you ? To what would you drive me ?" muttered the trem- 
bling Sintram. 

" Thou knowest thy father's strong stone castle on the 
Moon-rocks V replied the old man. " The castellan and 
the garrison are true and devoted to thee. It could stand 
a ten years' siege ; and the little gate which leads to the 
tills is open, as was that of the citadel of Sparta for Paris." 

And, in fact, the youth saw through a gate, left open 



82 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

he knew not how, the dim, distant mountains glittering 
in the moonlight. " And if he did not accept, he was a 
fool," said the little Master, with a grin, echoing Sintram's 
former words. 

At that moment Gabrielle stood close by him. She 
was within reach of his grasp, had he made the least move- 
ment; and a moonbeam, suddenly breaking forth, trans- 
figured, as it were, her heavenly beauty. The youth had 
already bent forward — 

" My Lord and God, I pray, 
Turn from his heart away 

This world's turmoil ; 
And call him to Thy light, 
Be it through sorrow's night, 

Through pain or toil." 

These words were sung by old Rolf at that very time, as he 
lingered on the still margin of the castle fish-pond, where 
he prayed alone to Heaven, full of foreboding care. They 
reached Sintram's ear; he stood as if spell-bound, and 
made the Sign of the Cross. Immediately the little Master 
fled away, jumping uncouthly on one leg, through the gates, 
and shutting them after him with a yell. 

Gabrielle shuddered, terrified at the wild noise. Sin- 
tram approached her softly, and said, offering his arm to 
her : " Suffer me to lead you back to the castle. The 
night in these northern regions is often wild and fearful." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

They found the two knights drinking wine within. Folko 
was relating stories in his usual mild and cheerful manner, 
and Biorn was listening with a moody air, but yet as if, 
against his will, the dark cloud might pass away before 
that bright and gentle courtesy. Gatrielle saluted the 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 33 

baron with a smile, and signed to him to continue his dis- 
course, as she took her place near the knight Biorn, full 
of watchful kindness. Sintram stood by the hearth, ab- 
stracted and melancholy; and the embers, as he stirred 
them, cast a strange glow over his pallid features. 

" And of all the German trading towns,"' continued 
Montfaucon, " the largest and richest is Hamburgh. In 
Normandy we willingly see their merchants land on our 
coasts, and those excellent people never fail to prove them- 
selves our friends when we seek their advice and assistance. 
When I first visited Hamburgh, every honour and respect 
was paid to me. I found its inhabitants engaged in a war 
with a neighbouring count, and immediately I used my 
sword for them, vigorously and successfully." 

" Your sword! your knightly sword!" interrupted 
Biorn ; and the old wonted fire flashed from his eyes. 
** Against a knight, and for shopkeepers!" 

" Sir knight," replied Folko, calmly, " the barons ox 
Montfaucon have ever used their swords as they chose, 
without the interference of another ; and as I have received 
this good custom, so do I wish to hand it on. If you agree 
not to this, so speak it freely out. But I forbid every rude 
word against the men of Hamburgh, since I have declared 
them to be my friends." 

Biorn cast down his haughty eyes, and their fire faded 
away. In a low voice he said, " Proceed, noble baron. 
You are right, and I am wrong." 

Then Folko stretched out his hand to him across the 
table, and resumed his narration : " Amongst all my be- 
loved Hamburghers the dearest to me are two men of 
marvellous experience — a father and son. What have they 
not seen and done in the remotest corners of the earth, 
and instituted in their native town ! Praise be to God, 
my life cannot be called unfruitful ; but, compared with 
the wise Gotthard Lenz and his stout-hearted son Rudlieb, 
I look upon myself as an esquire who has perhaps been 
some few times to tourneys, and, besides that, has never 

D 



34 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

hunted out of his own forests. They have converted, sub- 
dued, gladdened, dark men whom I know not how to 
name ; and the wealth which they have brought back 
with them has all been devoted to the common weal, as 
if tit for no other purpose. On their return from their 
long and perilous sea-voyages, they hasten to an hospital 
which has been founded by them, and where they under- 
take the part of overseers, and of careful and patient 
nurses. Then they proceed to select the most fitting spots 
whereon to erect new towers and fortresses for the defence 
of their beloved country. Next they repair to the houses 
where strangers and travellers receive hospitality at their 
cost ; and at last they return to their own abode, to enter- 
tain their guests, rich and noble like kings 3 and simple 
and unconstrained like shepherds. Many a tale of their 
w 7 ondrous adventures serves to enliven these sumptuous 
feasts. Amongst others, I remember to have heard my 
friends relate one at which my hair stood on end. Pos- 
sibly I may gain some more complete information on the 
subject from you. It appears that several years ago, just 
about the time of the Christmas festival, Gotthard and 
Rudlieb were shipwrecked on the coast of Norway, during 
a violent winter tempest. They could never exactly as" 
certain the situation of the rocks on which their vessel 
stranded ; but so much is certain, that very near the sea- ■ 
shore stood a huge castle, to which the father and son 
betook themselves, seeking for that assistance and shelter 
which Christian people are ever willing to afford each other 
in case of need. They went alone, leaving their followers 
to watch the injured ship. The castle-gates were thrown 
open, and they thought all was well. But on a sudden 
the court-yard was filled with armed men, who with one 
accord aimed their sharp iron -pointed spears at the de- 
fenceless strangers ; whose dignified remonstrances and 
mild entreaties were only heard in sullen silence or with 
scornful jeerings. After a while a knight came down the 
stairs, with fire-flashing eyes. They hardly knew whether 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



35 



-ifi(Mk 







to think they 
saw a spectre, 
or a wild hea- 
then ; he gave 
a signal, and 
the fatal spears 
closed around 
them. At that 
instant the soft 
tones of a wo- 
man's voice fell 
on their ear, 
calling on the 
Saviour's holy 
name for aid ; 
at the sound, 
the spectres in 
the court-yard 
rushed madly 
one against the 
other, the gates 
burst open, and 
Gotthard and 
Eudlieb fled 
away, catching 
a glimpse as 

they went of an angelic woman who appeared at one of the 
windows of the castle. They made every exertion to get 
their ship again afloat, choosing to trust themselves to the 
sea rather than to that barbarous coast ; and at last, after 
manifold dangers, they landed at Denmark. They say 
that some heathen must have owned the cruel castle ; but 
I hold it to be some ruined fortress, deserted by men, in 
which hellish spectres were wont to hold their nightly 
meetings. What heathen could be found so demon-like 
as to offer death to shipwrecked strangers, instead of re- 
freshment and shelter ] " 




36 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

Biorn gazed fixedly on the ground, as though he were 
turned into stone ; but Sintram came towards the table, 
and said, " Father, let us seek out this godless abode, 
and lay it level with the dust. I cannot tell how, but 
somehow I feel quite sure that the accursed deed of which 
we have just heard is alone the cause of my frightful 
dreams." 

Enraged at his son, Biorn rose up, and would perhaps 
again have uttered some dreadful words ; but heaven de- 
creed otherwise, for just at that moment the pealing notes 
of a trumpet were heard, which drowned the angry tones 
of his voice, the great doors opened slowly, and a herald 
entered the hall. He bowed reverently, and then said, 
" I am sent by Jarl Eric the Aged. He returned two days 
ago from his expedition to the Grecian seas. His wish had 
been to take vengeance on the island which is call< d Chios, 
where fifty years ago his father was slain by the soldiers of 
the emperor. But your kinsman, the sea-king Arinbiorn, 
who was lying there at anchor, tried to pacify him. To 
this Jarl Eric would not listen ; so the sea-king said next 
that he would never suffer Chios to be laid waste, because 
it was an island where the lays of an old Greek bard, 
called Homer, were excellently sung, and where moreover 
a very choice wine was made. Words proving of no avail, 
a combat ensued ; in which Arinbiorn had so much the 
advantage that Jarl Eric lost two of his ships, and only 
with difficulty escaped in one which had already sustained 
great damage. Eric the Aged has now resolved to take 
revenge on some of the sea-king's race, since Arinbiorn 
himself is seldom on the spot. Will you, Biorn of the 
Fiery Eyes, at once pay as large a penalty in cattle, and 
money, and goods, as it may please the Jarl to demand ? 
Or will you prepare to meet him with an armed force at 
Niflung's Heath seven days hence?" 

Biorn bowed his head quietly, and replied in a mild 
tone, " Seven days hence at Niflung's Heath." He then 
offered to the herald a golden goblet full of rich wine, and 



EINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 37 

added, " Drink that, and then carry off with thee the cup 
which thou- hast emptied." 

"The Baron of Montfaucon likewise sends greeting 
to thy chieftain, Jarl Eric," interposed Folko ; " and en- 
gages to be also at Niflung's Heath, as the hereditary 
friend of the sea-king, and also as the kinsman and guest 
of Biorn of the Fiery Eyes." 

The herald was seen to tremble at the name of Mont- 
faucon; he bowed very low, cast an anxious, reverential 
look at the baron, and left the hall. 

Gabrielle looked on her knight, smiling lovingly and 
securely, for she well knew his victorious prowess ; and she 
only asked, " Where shall I remain, whilst you go forth to 
battle, Folko?" 

" I had hoped," answered Biorn, " that you would be 
well contented to stay in this castle, lovely lady ; I leave 
my son to guard you and attend on you." 

Gabrielle hesitated an instant ; and Sintram, who had 
resumed his position near the fire, muttered to himself as 
he fixed his eyes on the bright flames which were flashing 
up, " Yes, yes, so it will probably happen. I can fancy 
that duke Menelaus had just left Sparta on some warlike 
expedition, when the young knight Paris met the lovely 
Helen that evening in the garden." 

But Gabrielle, shuddering, although she knew not why, 
said quickly, u Without you, Folko ? And must I forego 
the joy of seeing you fight? or the honour of tending you, 
should you chance to receive a wound ?" 

Folko bowed, gracefully thanking his lady, and replied, 
" Come with your knight, since such is your pleasure, and 
be to him a bright guiding star. It is a good old northern 
custom that ladies should be present at knightly combats, 
and no true warrior of the north will fail to respect the 
place whence beams the light of their eyes. Unless, in- 
deed," continued he with an inquiring look at Biorn, 
"unless Jarl Eric is not worthy of his forefather?" 

" A man of honour/' said Biorn confidently. 



38 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

u Then array yourself, my fairest love," said the de- 
lighted Folko ; " array yourself, and come forth with us 
to the battle-field to behold and judge our deeds." 

" Come forth with us to the battle," echoed Sintram in 
a sudden transport of joy. 

And they all dispersed in calm cheerfulness ; Sintram 
betaking himself again to the wood, while the others 
retired to rest. 



CHAPTER IX. 

It was a wild dreary tract of country that, which bore the 
name of Niflung's Heath. According to tradition, the 
young Niflung, son of Hogni, the last of his race, had 
there ended darkly a sad and unsuccessful life. Many 
ancient grave-stones were still standing round about ; and 
in the few oak-trees scattered here and there over the 
plain, huge eagles had built their nests. The beating of 
their heavy wings as they fought together, and their wild 
screams, were heard far off in more thickly peopled re- 
gions; and at the sound children would tremble in their 
cradles, and old men quake with fear as they slumbered 
over the blazing hearth. 

As the seventh night, the last before the day of combat, 
was just beginning, two large armies were seen descending 
from the hills in opposite directions : that which came from 
the west was commanded by Eric the Aged, that from the 
east by Biorn of the Fiery Eyes. They appeared thus early 
in compliance with the custom which required that adver- 
saries should always present themselves at the appointed 
field of battle before the time named, in order to prove 
that they rather sought than dreaded the fight. Folko 
forthwith pitched on the most convenient spot the tent of 
blue samite fringed with gold, which he carried with him 
to shelter his gentle lady ; whilst Sintram, in the charac- 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 39 

ter of herald, rode over to Jarl Eric to announce to him 
that the beauteous Gabrielle of Montfaucon was present in 
the army of the knight Biorn, and would the next morn- 
ing be present as a judge of the combat. 

Jarl Eric bowed low on receiving this pleasing mes- 
sage ; and ordered his bards to strike up a lay, the words 
of which ran as follows : — 

" Warriors bold of Eric's band, 
Gird your glittering armour on, 
Stand beneath to-morrow's sun, 

In your might. 
Fairest dame that ever gladden' d 
Our wild shores with beauty's vision, 
May thy bright eyes o'er our combat, 

Judge the right ! 

Tidings of yon noble stranger 
Long ago have reach" d our ears, 
Wafted upon southern breezes, 

O'er the wave. 
Now midst yonder hostile ranks, 
In his warlike pride he meets us, 
Folko comes ! Fight, men of Eric, 

True and brave !" 

These wondrous tones floated over the plain, and 
reached the tent of Gabrielle. It was no new thing to her 
to hear her knight's fame celebrated on all sides ; but now 
that she listened to his praises bursting forth in the still- 
ness of night from the mouth of his enemies, she could 
scarce refrain from kneeling at the feet of the mighty 
chieftain. But he with courteous tenderness held her up, 
and pressing his lips fervently on her soft hand, he said, 
" My deeds, lovely lady, belong to thee, and not to 
me ! " 

Now the night had passed away, and the east was 
glowing ; and on Niflung's Heath there was waving, and 
resounding, and glowing too. Knights put on their rat- 



40 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 

tling armour, war-horses began to neigh, the morning 
draught went round in gold and silver goblets, while 
war-songs and the clang of harps resounded in the midst. 
A joyous march was heard in Biorn's camp, as Montfaucon, 
with his troops and retainers, clad in bright steel armour, 
conducted their lady up to a neighbouring hill, where she 
would be safe from the spears which would soon be flying 
in all directions, and whence she could look freeiv over 
the battle-field. The morning sun, as it were in homage, 
played over her beauty ; and as she came in view of the 
camp of Jarl Eric, his soldiers lowered their weapons, 
whilst the chieftains bent low the crests of their huge 
helmets. Two of Montfaucon's pages remained in attend- 
ance on Gabrielle ; for so noble a service not unwillingly 
bridling their love of fighting. Both armies passed in front 
of her, saluting her and singing as they went ; they then 
placed themselves in array, and the fight began. 

The spears flew from the hands of the stout northern 
warriors, rattling against the broad shields under which 
they sheltered themselves, or sometimes clattering as they 
met in the air ; at intervals, on one side or the other, a 
man was struck, and fell silent in his blood. Then the 
Knight of Montfaucon advanced with his troop of Norman 
horsemen — even as he dashed past, he did not fail to lower 
his shining sword to salute Gabrielle ; and then with an 
exulting war-cry, which burst from many a voice, they 
charged the left wing of the enemy. Eric's foot-soldiers, 
kneeling firmly, received them with fixed javelins — many 
a noble horse fell wounded to death, and in falling brought 
his rider with him to the ground ; others again crushed 
their foes under them in their death-fall. Folko rushed 
through — he and his war-steed unwounded — followed by 
a troop of chosen knights. Already were they falling into 
disorder — already were Biorn's warriors giving shouts of 
victory — when a troop of horse, headed by Jarl Eric him- 
self, advanced against the valiant baron; and whilst his 
Normans, hastily assembled, assisted him in repelling this 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 41 

new attack, the enemy's infantry were gradually forming 
themselves into a thick mass, which rolled on and on. All 
these movements seemed caused by a warrior whose loud 
piercing shout was heard in the midst. ■ And scarcely were 
the troops formed into this strange array, when suddenly 
they spread themselves out on all sides, carrying every 
thing before them with the irresistible force of the burning 
torrent from Hecla. 

Biorn's soldiers, who had thought to enclose their ene- 
mies, lost courage and gave way before this wondrous on- 
set. The knight himself in vain attempted to stem the tide 
of fugitives, and with difficulty escaped being carried away 
by it. 

Sintram stood looking on this scene of confusion with 
mute indignation ; friends and foes passed by him, all 
equally avoiding him, and dreading to come in contact 
with one whose aspect was so fearful, nay, almost un- 
earthly, in his motionless rage. He aimed no blow either 
to right or left ; his powerful battle-axe rested in his hand ; 
but his eyes flashed fire, and seemed to be piercing the 
enemy's ranks through and through, as if he would find out 
who it was that had conjured up this sudden warlike spirit. 
He succeeded. A small man clothed in strange-looking 
armour, with large golden horns on his helmet, and a long 
vizor advancing in front of it, was leaning on a two-edged 
curved spear, and seemed to be looking with derision at 
the flight of Biorn's troops as they were pursued by their 
victorious foes. "That is he," cried Sintram; "he who 
will drive us from the field before the eyes of Gabrielle \" 
And with the swiftness of an arrow he flew towards him 
with a wild shout. The combat was fierce, but not of 
long duration. To the wondrous dexterity of his adver- 
sary, Sintram opposed his far superior size ; and he dealt 
so fearful a blow on the horned helmet, that a stream of 
blood rushed forth, the small man fell as if stunned, and 
after some frightful convulsive movements, his limbs ap- 
peared to stiffen in death. 



42 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



His fall gave the signal for that of all Eric's army. 
Even those who had not seen him fall, suddenly lost their 
courage and eagerness for the battle, and retreated with 
uncertain steps, or ran in wild affright on the spears of 
their enemies. At the same time Montfaucon was dis- 
persing Jarl Eric's cavalry, after a desperate conflict — had 
hurled their chief from the saddle, and taken him prisoner 
with his own hand. Biorn of the Fiery Eyes stood vic- 
torious in the middle of the field of battle. The day was 
won. 




CHAPTER X. 



In sight of both armies, with glowing cheeks and looks 
of modest humility, Sintram was conducted by the brave 
baron up the hill where Gabrielle stood in all the lustre of 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 43 

her beauty. Both warriors bent the knee before her, and 
Folko said, solemnly, " Lady, this valiant youth of a noble 
race has deserved the reward of this day's victory. I pray 
you let him receive it from your fair hand." 

Gabrielle bowed courteously, took off her scarf of blue 
and gold, and fastened to it a bright sword, which a page 
brought to her on a cushion of cloth of silver. She then, 
with a smile, presented the noble gift to Sintram, who 
was bending forward to receive it, when suddenly Ga- 
brielle drew back, and turning to Folko, said, " Noble 
baron, should not he on whom I bestow a scarf and sword 
be first admitted into the order of knighthood V 3 Light 
as a feather, Folko sprang up, and bowing low before his 
lady, gave the youth the accolade with solemn earnestness. 
Then Gabrielle buckled on his sword, saying, u For the 
honour of God and the service of virtuous ladies, young 
knight. I saw you fight, I saw you conquer, and my 
earnest prayers followed you. Fight and conquer often 
again, as you have done this day, that the beams of your 
renown may shine over my far-distant country." And at 
a sign from Folko, she offered her tender lips for the new 
knight to kiss. Thrilling all over, and full of a holy joy, 
Sintram arose in deep silence, and hot tears streamed 
down his softened countenance, whilst the shout and the 
trumpets of the assembled troops greeted the youth with 
stunning applause. Old Rolf stood silently on one side, 
and as he looked in the mild beaming eyes of his foster- 
child, he calmly and piously returned thanks: 

" The strife at length hath found its end, 
Rich blessings now shall heaven send ! 
The evil foe is slain !" 

Biorn and Jarl Eric had the while been talking to- 
gether eagerly, but not unkindly. The conqueror now 
led his vanquished enrmy up the hill and presented him 
to the baron and Gabrielle, saying, " Instead of two ene- 
mies you now see two sworn allies ; and I request you, 



44 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

my beloved guests and kinsfolk, to receive him graciously 
as one who henceforward belongs to us." 

" He was so always/' added Eric, smiling ; " I sought, 
indeed, revenge ; but I have now had enough of defeats 
both by sea and land. Yet I thank heaven that neither in 
the Grecian seas, to the sea-king, nor on Niflung's Heath, 
to you, have I yielded ingloriously." 

The lord of Montfaucon assented cordially, and heartily 
and solemnly was reconciliation made. Then Jarl Eric ad- 
dressed Gabrielle with so noble a grace, that with a smile 
of wonder she gazed on the gigantic grey hero, and gave 
him her beautiful hand to kiss. 

Meanwhile Sintram was speaking earnestly to his good 
Rolf; and at length he was heard to say, " But before all, 
be sure that you bury that wonderfully brave knight whom 
my battle-axe smote. Choose out the greenest hill for his 
resting-place, and the loftiest oak to shade his grave. 
Also, I wish you to open his vizor and to examine his 
countenance carefully, that so, though mortally smitten, 
we may not bury him alive ; and moreover, that you may 
be able to describe to me him to whom I owe the noblest 
prize of victory." 

Rolf bowed readily, and went. 

" Our young knight is speaking there of one amongst 
the slain of whom I should like to hear more," said Folko, 
turning to Jarl Eric. " Who, dear Jarl, was that won- 
derful chieftain who led on your troops so skilfully, and 
who at last fell under Sintram' s powerful battle-axe 1" 

" You ask me more than I know how to answer," re- 
plied Jarl Eric. " About three nights ago this stranger 
made his appearance amongst us. I was sitting with my 
chieftains and warriors round the hearth, forging our 
armour, and singing the while. Suddenly, above the 
din of our hammering and our singing, we heard so loud 
a noise that it silenced us in a moment, and we sat 
motionless as if we had been turned into stone. Before 
long the sound was repeated; and at last we made out 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 45 

that it must be caused by some person blowing a huge 
horn outside the castle, seeking for admittance. I went 
down myself to the gate, and as I passed through the 
court-yard all my dogs were so terrified by the extra- 
ordinary noise as to be howling and crouching in their 
kennels instead of barking. I chid them, and called to 
them, but even the fiercest would not follow me. Then, 
thought I, I must shew you the way to set to work ; so I 
grasped my sword firmly, I set my torch on the ground 
close beside me, and I let the gates fly open without 
further delay. For I well knew that it would be no easy 
matter for any one to come in against my will. A loud 
laugh greeted me, and 1 heard these words, 6 Well, well, 
what mighty preparations are these before one small man 
can find the shelter he seeks !' And in truth I did feel 
myself redden with shame when I saw the small stranger 
standing opposite to me quite alone. I called to him to 
come in at once, and offered my hand to him ; but he still 
shewed some displeasure, and would not give me his in 
return. As he went up, however, he became more friendly 
— he shewed me the golden horn on which he sounded that 
blast, and which he carried screwed on his helmet, as well 
as another exactly like it. When he was sitting with us in 
the hall, he behaved in a very strange manner — sometimes 
he was merry, sometimes cross; by turns courteous and 
rude in his demeanour, without any one being able to see 
a motive for such constant changes. I longed to know 
where he came from ; but how could I ask my guest such 
a question? He told us as much as this, that he was 
starved with cold in our country, and that his own was 
much warmer. Also he appeared well acquainted with 
the city of Constantinople, and related fearful stories of 
how brothers, uncles, and nephews, nay, even fathers and 
sons, thrust each other from the throne, blinded, cut out 
tongues, and murdered. At length he said his own name 
—it sounded harmonious, like a Greek name, but none of 
us could remember it. Before long he displayed his skill 



46 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

as an armourer. He understood marvellously well how 
to handle the red-hot iron, and how to form it into more 
murderous weapons than any I had ever before seen. I 
would not suffer him to go on making them, for I was re- 
solved to meet you in the field with equal arms, and such 
as we are all used to in our northern countries. Then he 
laughed, and said he thought it would be quite possible to 
be victorious without them, by skilful movements and the 
like ; if only I would entrust the command of my infantry 
to him, I was sure of victory. Then I thought that he who 
makes arms well must also wield them well — yet I required 
some proof of his powers. Ye lords, he came off victori- 
ous in trials of strength such as you can hardly imagine ; 
and although the fame of young Sintram, as a bold and 
brave warrior, is spread far and wide, yet I can scarce be- 
lieve that he could slay such an one as my Greek ally." 

He would have continued speaking, but the good Rolf 
came hastily back with a few followers, the whole party 
so ghastly pale, that all eyes were involuntarily fixed on 
them, and looked anxiously to hear what tidings they 
brought. Rolf stood still, silent and trembling. 

" Take courage, my old friend!" cried Sintram. 
" Whatever thou mayest have to tell is truth and light 
from thy faithful mouth." 

u My dear master," began the old man, "be not 
angry, but as to burying that strange warrior whom you 
slew, it is a thing impossible. Would that we had never 
opened that wide hideous vizor ! For so horrible a coun- 
tenance grinned at us from underneath it, so distorted by 
death, and with so hellish an expression, that we hardly 
kept our senses. We could not by any possibility have 
touched him. I would rather be sent to kill wolves and 
bears in the desert, and look on whilst fierce birds of prey 
feast on their carcasses." 

All present shuddered, and were silent for a time, till 
Sintram nerved himself to say, " Dear good old man, why 
use such wild words as I never till now heard thee utter ? 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



47 



But tell me, Jarl Eric, did your ally appear altogether so 
awful while he was yet alive V 

" Not as far as I know," answered Jarl Eric, looking 
inquiringly at his companions, who were standing around. 
They said the same thing ; but on further questioning, it 
appeared that neither the chieftain, nor the knights, nor 
the soldiers, could say exactly what the stranger was like. 

" We must then find it out for ourselves, and bury the 
corpse," said Sintram; and he signed to the assembled 
party to follow him. All did so except the lord of Mont- 
faucon, whom the whispered entreaty of Gabrielle kept at 
her side. He lost nothing thereby. For though Niflung's 
Heath was searched from one end to the other many times, 
yet the body of the unknown warrior was no longer to be 
found. 





CHAPTER XL 



The joyful calm which came over Sintram on this day 
appeared to be more than a passing gleam. If too, at 
times, a thought of the knight Paris and Helen would 
inflame his heart with bolder and wilder wishes, it needed 
but one look at his scarf and sword, and the stream of his 
inner life glided again clear as a mirror, and serene within. 
" What can any man wish for more than has been already 
bestowed on me V 9 would he say to himself at such times, 
in still delight. And thus it went on for a long while* 

The beautiful northern autumn had already begun to 
redden the leaves of the oaks and elms round the castle, 
when one day it chanced that Sintram was sitting in com- 
pany with Folko and Gabrielle in almost the very same 
spot in the garden where he had before met that mys- 
terious being whom, without knowing why, he had named 
the Little Master. But on this day how different did 
every thing appear! The sun was sinking slowly over 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 47* 

the sea, the mist of an autumnal evening was rising from 
the fields and meadows around, towards the hill on which 
stood the huge castle. Gabrielle, placing her lute in Sin- 
tram's hands, said to him, " Dear friend, so mild and 
gentle as you now are, I may well dare to entrust to you 
iny tender little darling. Let me again hear you sing 
that lay of the land of flowers ; for I am sure that it will 
now sound much sweeter than w r hen you accompanied it 
with the vibrations of your fearful harp." 

The young knight bowed as he prepared to obey the 
lady's commands. With a grace and softness hitherto 
unwonted, the tones resounded from his lips, and the wild 
song appeared to transform itself, and to bloom into a 
garden of the blessed. Tears stood in Gabrielle's eyes; 
and Sintram, as lie gazed on the pearly brightness, poured 
forth tones of yet richer sweetness. When the last notes 
were sounded, Gabrielle's angelic voice was heard to echo 
them ; and as she repeated 

11 Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers,' ' 

Sintram put down the lute, and sighed with a thankful 
glance towards the stars, now rising in the heavens. Then 
Gabrielle, turning towards her lord, murmured these w r ords : 
" Oh, how long have we been far away from our own shin- 
ing castles and bright gardens ! Oh ! for that land of the 
sweetest flowers !" 

Sintram could scarce believe that he heard aright, so 
suddenly did he feel himself as if shut out from paradise. 
But his last hope vanished before the courteous assurances 
of Folko, that he would endeavour to fulfil his lady's wishes 
the very next week, and that their ship was lying off the 
hore ready to put to sea. She thanked him with a kiss 
:raprinted softly on his forehead ; and leaning on his arm, 
she bent her steps, singing and smiling, towards the castle. 

Sintram, troubled in mind, as though turned into stone, 
remained behind forgotten. At length, w r hen night was 
now in the sky, he started up wildly, ran up and down the 

E 



48* SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

garden, as if all his former madness had again taken pos- 
session of him ; and then rushed out and wandered upon 
the wild moonlit hills. There he dashed his sword against 
the trees and bushes, so that on all sides was heard a sound 
of crashing and falling. The birds of night flew about 
him screeching in wild alarm ; and the deer, startled by 
the noise, sprang away and took refuge in the thickest 
coverts. 

On a sudden old Rolf appeared, returning home from 
a visit to the chaplain of Drontheim, to whom he had been 
relating, with tears of joy, how Sin tram was softened by 
the presence of the angel Gabrielle, yea, almost healed, 
and how he dared to hope that the evil dreams had yielded. 
And now the sword, as it whizzed round the furious youth, 
had well nigh wounded the good old man. He stopped 
short, and clasping his hands, he said, with a deep sigh, 
" Alas, Sintram ! my foster child, darling of my heart, 
what has come over thee, thus fearfully stirring thee to 
rage?" 

The youth stood awhile as if spell-bound ; he looked in 
his old friend's face with a fixed and melancholy gaze, and 
his eyes became dim, like expiring watch-fires seen through 
a thick cloud of mist. At length he sighed forth these 
words, almost inaudibly : fi Good Rolf, good Rolf, depart 
from me ! thy garden of heaven is no home for me ; and 
if sometimes a light breeze blow open its golden gates, so 
that I can look in and see the flowery meadow-land where 
the dear angels dwell, then straightway between them and 
me come the cold north wind and the icy storm, and the 
sounding doors fly together, and I remain without, lonely, 
in endless winter." 

" Beloved young knight, oh, listen to me — listen to the 
good angel within you ! Do you not bear in your hand 
that very sword with which the pure lady girded you? 
does not her scarf wave over your raging breast ? Do you 
not recollect how you used to say, that no man could wish 
for more than had fallen to you?" 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 49 

-' ' Yes, Rolf, I have said that," replied Sintram, sinking 
on the mossy turf, bitterly weeping. Tears also ran over 
the old man's white beard. Before long the youth stood 
again erect, his tears ceased to flow, his looks were fearful, 
cold, and grim ; and he said, " You see, Rolf, I have passed 
blessed peaceful days, and I thought that the powers of 
evil would never again have dominion over me. So, per- 
chance, it might have been, as day would ever be did the 
Sun ever stand in the sky. But ask the poor benighted 
Earth, wherefore she looks so dark ! Bid her again smile 
as she was wont to do ! Old man, she cannot smile : and 
now that the gentle compassionate Moon has disappeared 
behind the clouds with her holy funeral veil, she cannot 
even weep. And in this hour of darkness, all that is wild 
and mad wakes up. So, stop me not, I tell thee, stop me 
not ! Hurrah, behind, behind the pale Moon !' ? His voice 
changed to a hoarse murmur at these last words, stormlike. 
He tore away from the trembling old man, and rushed 
through the forest. Rolf knelt down and prayed, and 
wept silently. 





CHAPTER XII 



Where the sea-beach was wildest, and the cliffs most 
steep and rugged, and close by the remains of three shat- 
tered oaks, haply marking where, in heathen times, human 
victims had been sacrificed, now stood Sintram, leaning, 
as if exhausted, on his drawn sword, and gazing intently 
on the dancing waves. The Moon had again shone forth ; 
and as her pale beams fell on his motionless figure through 
the quivering branches of the trees, he might have been 
taken for some fearful idol-image. Suddenly some one 
on the left half raised himself out of the high withered 
grass, uttered a faint groan, and again lay down. Then 
between the two companions began this strange talk : 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 51 

" Thou that raovest thyself so strangely in the grass, 
dost thou belong to the living or to the dead 1" 

"As one may take it. I am dead to heaven and joy 
— I live for hell and anguish. " 

" Methinks that I have heard thee before." 

" Oh, yes." 

" Art thou a troubled spirit? and was thy life-blood 
poured out here of old in sacrifice to idols ?" 

"I am a troubled spirit; but no man ever has, or 
ever can, shed my blood. I have been cast down — oh, 
into a frightful abyss !" 

" And didst thou there break thy neck?" 

" I live, — and shall live longer than thou." 

" Almost thou seemest to me the crazy pilgrim with 
the dead men's bones." 

" I am not he, though often we are companions, — ay, 
walk together right near and friendly. But to you be it 
said, he thinks me mad. If sometimes I urge him, and 
say to him, ' Take V then he hesitates, and points upwards 
towards the stars. And again, if I say, ' Take not !' then, 
to a certainty, he seizes on it in some awkward manner, 
and so he spoils my best joys and pleasures. But, in 
spite of this, we remain in some measure brothers in arms, 
and, indeed, all but kinsmen." 

" Give me hold of thy hand, and let me help thee to 
get up." 

" Ho, ho ! my active young sir, that might bring you 
no good. Yet, in fact, you have already helped to raise 
me. Give heed awhile." 

Wilder and ever wilder were the strugglings on the 
ground ; thick clouds hurried over the moon and the stars, 
on a long unknown wild journey ; and Sinlram's thoughts 
grew no less wild and stormy, while far and near an awful 
howling could be heard amidst the trees and the grass. At 
length the mysterious being arose from the ground. As 
if with a fearful curiosity, the moon, through a rent in the 
clouds, cast a beam upon Sintram's companion, and made 



52 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

clear to the shuddering youth that the little Master stood 
by him. 

" Avaunt'" cried he, " I will listen no more to thy 
evil stories about the knight Paris : they would end by 
driving me quite mad." 

" My stories about Paris are not needed for that!" 
grinned the little Master. "It is enough that the Helen 
of thy heart should be journeying towards Montfaucon. 
Believe me, madness has thee already, head and heart. 
Or wouldest thou that she should remain ? For that, how- 
ever, thou must be more courteous to me than thou art 
now." 

Therewith he raised his voice towards the sea, as if 
fiercely rebuking it, so that Sintram could not but shudder 
and tremble before the dwarf. But he checked himself, 
and, grasping his sword-hilt with both hands, he said, 
contemptuously: "Thou and Gabrielle ! what acquaint- 
ance hast thou with Gabrielle ?" 

" Not much," was the reply. And the little Master 
might be seen to quake with fear and rage as he conti- 
nued: " I cannot well bear the name of thy Helen; do 
not din it in my ears ten times in a breath. But if the 
tempest should increase? If the waves should swell, and 
roll on till they form a foaming ring round the whole coast 
of Norway? The voyage to Montfaucon must in that case 
be altogether given up, and thy Helen would remain here, 
at least through the long, long, dark winter." 

"If! if!" replied Sintram, with scorn. "Is the sea 
thy bond-slave ? Are the storms thy fellow-workmen ?" 

" They are rebels, accursed rebels," muttered the little 
Master in his red beard. " Thou must lend me thy aid, 
sir knight, if I am to subdue them ; but thou hast not the 
heart for it." 

" Boaster, evil boaster!" answered the youth; " what 
dost thou ask of me?" 

" Not much, sir knight ; nothing at all for one who 
has strength and ardour v^ soul. Thou needest only look 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 53 

at the sea steadily and keenly for one half-hour, without 
ever ceasing to wish with all thy might that it should 
foam and rage and swell, and never again rest till winter 
has laid its icy hold upon your mountains. Then winter 
is enough to hinder Duke Menelaus from his voyage to 
Montfaucon. And now give me a lock of your black hair, 
which is blowing so wildly about your head, like ravens' 
or vultures' wings." 

The youth drew his sharp dagger, madly cut off a lock 
of his hair, threw it to the strange being, and now gazed, 
as he desired, powerfully wishing, on the waves of the sea. 
And softly, quite softly, did the waters stir themselves, as 
one whispers in troubled dreams who would gladly rest and 
cannot. Sintram was on the point of giving up, when in 
the moonbeams a ship appeared, with white-swelling sails, 
towards the south. Anguish came over him, that Gabrielle 
would soon thus quickly sail away ; he wished again with 
all his power, and fixed his eyes intently on the watery 
abyss. " Sintram," a voice might have said to him — 
u ah, Sintram, art thou indeed the same who so lately 
wert gazing on the moistened heaven of the eyes of Ga- 
brielle ?" 

And now the waves heaved more mightily, and the 
howling tempest swept over the ocean ; the breakers, white 
with foam, became visible in the moonlight. Then the 
little Master threw the lock of Sintram's hair up towards 
the clouds, and, as it was blown to and fro by the blast 
of wind, the storm burst in all its fury, so that sea and 
sky were covered with one thick cloud, and far eff might 
be heard the cries of distress from many a sinking vessel. 

But the crazy pilgrim with the dead men's bones rose 
up in the midst of the waves, close to the shore, gigantic, 
tall, fearfully rocking ; the boat in which he stood was 
hidden from sight, so mightily raged the waves round 
about it. 

" Thou must save him, little Master— thou must cer- 
tainly save him," cried Sintram's voice, angrily entreating, 



54 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

through the roaring of the winds and waves. But the dwarf 
replied, with a laugh : " Be quite at rest for him ; he will 
be able to save himself. The waves can do him no harm. 
Seest thou? They are only begging of him, and therefore 
they jump up so boldlv round him ; and he gives them 
bountiful alms — very bountiful, that I can assure thee." 

In fact, as it seemed, the pilgrim threw some bones 
into the sea, and passed scatheless on his way. Sintram 
felt his blood run cold with horror, and he rushed wildly 
towards the castle. His companion had either fled or 
vanished away. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

In the castle, Biorn and Gabrielle and Folko of Montfaucon 
were sitting round the great stone table, from which, since 
the arrival of his noble guests, those suits of armour had 
been removed, formerly the established companions of the 
lord of the castle, and placed altogether in a heap in the 
adjoining room. At this time, while the storm was beating 
so furiously against doors and windows, it seemed as if 
the ancient armour were also stirring in the next room, 
and Gabrielle several times half rose from her seat in 
great alarm, fixing her eyes on the small iron door, as 
though she expected to see an armed spectre issue there- 
from, bending with his mighty helmet through the low 
vaulted doorway. 

The knight Biorn smiled grimly, and said, as if he had 
guessed her thoughts : " Oh, he will never again come out 
thence ; I have put an end to that for ever." 

His guests stared at him doubtingly ; and with a strange 
air of unconcern, as though the storm had awakened all 
the fierceness of his soul, he began the following history : 

"I was once a happy man myself; I could smile, as 
you do, and I could rejoice in the morning as you do ; that 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. o5 

was before the hypocritical chaplain had so bewildered the 
wise mind of my lovely wife with his canting talk, that 
she w r ent into a cloister, and left me alone with our wild 
boy. That was not fair usage from the fair Yerena. 
Well, so it was, that in the first days of her daw r ning 
beauty, before I knew r her, many knights sought her hand, 
amongst whom was Sir Weigand the Slender; and towards 
him the gentle maiden shewed herself the most favourably 
inclined. Her parents were well aware that Weigands 
rank and station were little below their own, and that his 
earl\ r fame as a warrior without reproach stood high ; so that 
before long Verena and he were accounted as affianced. It 
Happened one day that they were walking together in the 
orchard, when a shepherd w r as driving his flock up the 
mountain beyond. The maiden saw a little snow-white 
lamb frolicking gaily, and longed for it. Weigand vaults 
over the railings, overtakes the shepherd, and offers him 
two gold bracelets for the lamb. But the shepherd w T ill 
not part with it, and scarcely listens to the knight, going 
quietly the while up the mountain -side, with Weigand 
close upon him. At last Weigand loses patience. He 
threatens ; and the shepherd, sturdy and proud like all of 
his race in our northern land., threatens in return. Sud- 
denly Weigand's sword resounds upon his head, — the stroke 
should have fallen flat, but who can control a fiery horse 
or a drawn sword ? The bleeding shepherd, with a cloven 
skull, falls down the precipice ; his frightened flock bleats 
on the mountain. Only the little lamb runs in its terror 
to the orchard, pushes itself through the garden-rails, and 
lies at Verena's feet, as if asking for help, all red with his 
master's blood. She took it up in her arms, and from that 
moment never suffered Weigand the Slender to appear 
again before her face. She continued to cherish the little 
lamb, and seemed to take pleasure in nothing else in the 
world, and became pale and turned towards heaven, as 
the lilies are. She would soon have taken the veil, but 
just then I came to aid her father in a bloody w r ar, and 



56 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

rescued liirn from his enemies. The old man represented 
this to her, and, softly smiling, she gave me her lovely- 
hand. His grief would not suffer the unhappy Weigand 
to remain in his own country. It drove him forth as a 
pilgrim to Asia, whence our forefathers came, and there 
he did wonderful deeds, both of valour and self-abasement. 
Truly, my heart was strangely weak when I heard him 
spoken of at that time. After some years he returned, 
and wished to build a church or monastery on that moun- 
tain towards the west, whence the walls of my castle are 
distinctly seen. It was said that he wished to become a 
priest there, but it fell out otherwise. For some pirates 
had sailed from the southern seas, and, hearing of the 
building of this monastery, their chief thought to find 
much gold belonging to the lord of the castle and to the 
master builders, or else, if he surprised and carried them 
off, to extort from them a mighty ransom. He did not 
yet know northern courage and northern weapons ; but 
he soon gained that knowledge. Having landed in the 
creek under the black rocks, he made his way through a 
by-path up to the building, surrounded it, and thought 
in himself that the affair was now ended. Ha ! then out 
rushed Weigand and his builders, and fell upon them 
with swords and hatchets and hammers. The heathens 
fled away to their ships, with Weigand behind to take 
vengeance on them. In passing by our castle he caught 
a sight of Verena on the terrace, and, for the first time 
during so many years, she bestowed a courteous and kind 
salutation on the glowing victor. At that moment a dag- 
ger, hurled by one of the pirates in the midst of his hasty 
flight, struck Weigand's uncovered head, and he fell to 
the ground bleeding and insensible. We completed the 
rout of the heathens: then I had the wounded knight 
brought into the castle ; and my pale Verena glowed as 
lilies in the light of the morning sun, and Weigand opened 
his eyes with a smile when he was brought near her. He 
refused to be taken into any room but the small one close 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 57 

to this where the armour is now placed ; for he said that 
he felt as if it were a cell like that which he hoped soon 
to inhabit in his quiet cloister. All was done after his 
wish : my sweet Verena nursed him, and he appeared 
at first to be on the straightest road to recovery ; but 
his head continued weak and liable to be confused by 
the slightest emotion, his walk was rather a falling than 
a walking, and his cheeks were colourless. We could not 
let him go. When we were sitting here together in the 
evening, he used always to come tottering into the hall 
through the low doorway ; and my heart was sad and 
wrathful too, when the soft eyes of Verena beamed so 
sweetly on him, and a glow like that of the evening sky 
hovered over her lily cheeks. But I bore it, and I could 
have borne it to the end of our lives, — when, alas ! Verena 
went into a cloister !" 

His head fell so heavily on his folded hands, that the 
stone table seemed to groan beneath it, and he remained 
a long while motionless as a corpse. When he again raised 
himself up, his eyes glared fearfully as he looked round 
the hall, and he said to Folko : " Your beloved Ham- 
burghers, Gotthard Lentz, and Rudlieb his son, they have 
much to answer for! Who bid them come and be ship- 
wrecked so close to my castle?" 

Folko cast a piercing look on him, and a fearful inquiry 
was on the point of escaping his lips, but another look 
at the trembling Gabrielle made him silent, at least for 
the present moment, and the knight Biorn continued his 
narrative. 

" Verena was with her nuns, I was left alone, and my 
despair had driven me throughout the day through forest 
and brook and mountain. In the twilight I returned to 
my deserted castle, and scarcely was I in the hall, when 
the little door creaked, and Weigand, who had slept 
through all, crept towards me and asked : * Where can 
Verena be V Then I became as mad, and howled to him, 
1 She is gone mad, and so am I, and you also, and now 



58 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

we are all mad V Merciful heaven, the wound on his head 
burst open, and a dark stream flowed over his face — ah! 
how different from the redness when Verena met him at 
the castle-gate ; and he rushed forth, raving mad, into the 
wilderness without, and ever since has wandered all around 
as a crazy pilgrim." 

He was silent, and so were Folko and Gabrielle, all 
three pale and cold like images of the dead. At length 
the fearful narrator added in a low voice, and as if he were 
quite exhausted : " He has visited me since that time, but 
he will never again come through the little door. Have 
I not established peace and order in my castle V* 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Sintram had not returned home, when those of the castle 
betook themselves to rest in deep bewilderment. No one 
thought of him, for every heart was filled with strange 
forebodings, and with uncertain cares. Even the heroic 
breast of the knight of Montfaucon heaved in doubt. 

Old Rolf still remained without, weeping in the forest, 
heedless of the storm which beat on his unprotected head, 
while he waited for his young master. But he had gone 
a very different w r ay ; and when the morning dawned, he 
entered the castle from the opposite side. 

Gabrielle's slumbers had been sweet during the whole 
night. It had seemed to her that angels with golden wings 
had blown away the wild histories of the evening before, 
and had wafted to her the bright flowers, the sparkling 
sea, and the green hills of her own home. She smiled, and 
drew her breath calmly and softly, whilst the magical 
tempest raged and howled through the forests, and con- 
tinued to battle with the troubled sea. But in truth when 
she aw r oke in the morning, and heard still the rattling of 
the windows, and saw the clouds, as if dissolved in mist 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. Ob 

and steam, still hiding the face of the heavens, she could 
have wept for anxiety and sadness, especially when she 
heard from her maidens that Folko had already left their 
apartment clad in full armour as if prepared for a combat. 
At the same time she heard the sound of the heavy tread 
of armed men in the echoing halls, and, on inquiring, 
found that the knight of Montfaucon had assembled all his 
retainers to be in readiness to protect their lady. 

Wrapped in a cloak of ermine, she stood trembling like 
a tender flower just sprung up out of the snow, tottering 
beneath a winter's storm. Then Sir Folko entered the 
room, in all his shining armour, and peacefully carrying 
his golden helmet with the long shadowy plumes in his 
hand. He saluted Gabrielle with cheerful serenity, and at 
a sign from him, her attendants retired, while the men-at- 
arms without were heard quietly dispersing. 

" Lady," said he, as he took his seat beside her, on a 
couch to which he led her, already re-assured by his pre- 
sence ; " lady, will you forgive your knight for having 
left you to endure some moments of anxiety ; but honour 
and stern justice called him. Now all is set in order, 
quietly and peacefully ; dismiss your fears and every 
thought that has troubled you, as things which are no 
more." 

"But you and Biorn?" asked Gabrielle. 

" On the word of a knight," replied he, "all is well 
there." And thereupon he began to talk over indifferent 
subjects with his usual ease and wit ; but Gabrielle, bend- 
ing towards him, said with deep emotion : 

" O Folko, my knight, the flower of my life, my pro- 
tector and my dearest hope on earth, tell me all, if thou 
mayst. But if a promise binds thee, it is different. Thou 
knowest that I am of the race of Portamour, and I would 
ask nothing from my knight which could cast even a breath 
of suspicion on his spotless shield." 

Folko thought gravely for one instant; then looking at 
her with a bright smile, he said : " It is not that, Gabrielle ; 



60 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

but canst thou bear what I have to disclose? Wilt thou 
not sink down under it, as a slender fir gives way under a 
mass of snow V* 

She raised herself somewhat proudly, and said : "I 
have already reminded thee of the name of my father's 
house. Let me now add, that I am the wedded wife of 
the Baron of Montfaucon." 

"Then so let it be," replied Folko solemnly; " and 
if that must come forth openly which should ever have 
remained hidden in the darkness which belongs to such 
deeds of wickedness, at least let it come forth less fear- 
fully with a sudden flash. Know then, Gabrielle, that the 
wicked knight who would have slain my friends Gotthard 
and Rudlieb is none other than our kinsman and host, 
Biorn of the Fiery Eyes." 

Gabrielle shuddered and covered her eyes with her fair 
hands ; but at the end of a moment she looked up with 
a bewildered air, and said : "I have heard wrong surely, 
although it is true that yesterday evening such a thought 
struck me. For did not you say awhile ago that all w 7 as 
settled and at peace between you and Biorn ? Between the 
brave baron and such a man after such a crime ?" 

"You heard aright," answered Folko, looking with 
fond delight on the delicate yet high-minded lady. "This 
morning with the earliest dawn I went to him and chal- 
lenged him to a mortal combat in the neighbouring valley, 
if he were the man whose castle had well nigh become an 
altar of sacrifice to Gotthard and Rudlieb. He was already 
completely armed, and merely saying, * I am he/ he fol- 
lowed me to the forest. But when we stood alone at the 
place of combat, he flung away his shield down a giddy 
precipice, then his sword was hurled after it, and next 
with gigantic strength he tore off his coat of mail, and 
said, i Now fall on, thou minister of vengeance ; for I am a 
heavy sinner, and I dare not fight with thee/ How could 
I then attack him? A strange truce was agreed on be- 
tween us. He is half as my vassal, and yet I solemnly 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 61 

forgave him in my own name and in that of my Mends. 
He was contrite, and yet no tear was in his eye, no gentle 
word on his lips. He is only kept under by the power 
with which I am endued by having right on my side, and 
it is on that tenure that Biorn is my vassal. I know not, 
lady, whether you can bear to see us together on these 
terms ; if not, I will ask for hospitality in some other 
castle ; there are none in Norway which would not receive 
us joyfully and honourably, and this wild autumnal storm 
may put off our voyage for many a day. Only this I think, 
that if we depart directly and in such a manner, the heart 
of this savage man will break. " 

" Where my noble lord remains, there I also remain 
joyfully under his protection," replied Gabrielle; and again 
her heart glowed with rapture at the greatness of her 
knight. 



CHAPTER XV. 

The noble lady had just unbuckled her knight's armour 
with her own fair hands, — on the field of battle alone were 
pages or esquires bidden handle Montfaucm's armour, — 
and now she was throwing over his shoulders his mantle of 
blue velvet embroidered with gold, when the door opened 
gently, and Sintram entered the room, humbly greeting 
them. Gabrielle received him kindly, as she was w r ont, 
but suddenly turning pale, she looked away and said: 

"0 Sintram, what has happened to you? And how 
can one single night have so fearfully altered you ?" 

Sintram stood still, thunderstruck, and feeling as if he 
himself did not know what had befallen him. Then Folko 
took him by the hand, led him towards a bright polished 
shield, and said very earnestly, "Look here at yourself, 
young knight \" 

At the first glance Sintram drew back horrified. He 



62 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

fancied that he saw the little Master before him with that 
single upright feather sticking out of his cap ; but he at 
length perceived that the mirror was only shewing him his 
own image and none other, and that his own wild dagger 
had given him this strange and spectre-like aspect, as he 
could not deny to himself. 

" Who has done that to you?" asked Folko, yet more 
grave and solemn. "And what terror makes your dis- 
ordered hair stand on end ?" 

. Sintram knew not what to answer. He felt as if a 
judgment were coming on him, and a shameful degrading 
from his knightly rank. Suddenly Folko drew him away 
from the shield, and taking him towards the rattling win- 
dow, he asked: "Whence comes this tempest?" 

Still Sintram kept silence. His limbs began to tremble 
under him ; and Gabrielle, pale and terrified, whispered, i 
"O Folko, my knight, what has happened? Oh, tell me; 
are we come into an enchanted castle V* 

"The land of our northern ancestors," replied Folko 
with solemnity, "is full of mysterious knowledge. But 
we may not, for all that, call its people enchanters ; still 
this youth has cause to watch himself narrowly ; he whom 
the evil one has touched by so much as one hair of his 
head " 

Sintram heard no more ; with a deep groan he staggered 
out of the room. As he left it, he met old Rolf, still almost 
benumbed by the cold and storms of the night. Now, in 
his joy at again seeing his young master, he did not remark 
his altered appearance ; but as he accompanied him to his 
sleeping-room he said, "Witches and spirits of the tempest 
must have taken up their abode on the sea-shore. I am 
certain that such wild storms never arise without some 
devilish arts." 

Sintram fell into a fainting-fit, from which Rolf vould 
with difficulty recover him sufficiently to appear in the 
great hall at the mid-day hour. But before he went down, 
he caused a shield to be brought, saw himself therein, and 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 63 

cut close round, in grief and horror, the rest of his long 
black hair, so that he made himself look almost like a 
monk ; and thus he joined the others already assembled 
round the table. They all looked at him with surprise ; 
but old Biorn rose up and said fiercely, "Are you going 
to betake yourself to a cloister, as well as the fair lady 
your mother ?" 

A commanding look from the Baron of Montfaucon 
checked any farther outbreak; and as if in apology, Biorn 
added, with a forced smile, " I was only thinking if any 
accident had befallen him, like Absolom's, and if he had 
been obliged to save himself from being strangled by part- 
ing with all his hair." 

" You should not jest with holy things," answered the 
baron severely, and all were silent. No sooner was the 
repast ended, than Folko and Gabrielle, with a grave and 
courteous salutation, retired to their apartments. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Life in the castle took from this time quite another form. 
Those two bright beings, Folko and Gabrielle, spent most 
part of the day in their apartments, and when they shewed 
themselves, it was with quiet dignity and grave silence, 
while Biorn andSintran. **ood before them in humble fear. 
Nevertheless, Biorn could not bear the thought of his guests 
seeking shelter in any other knight's abode. When Folko 
once spoke of it, something like a tear stood in the wild 
man's eye. His head sank, and he said softly, " As you 
please ; but I feel that if you go, I shall run among the 
rocks for days." 

And thus they all remained together ; for the storm 
continued to rage with such increasing fury over the sea, 
that no sea voyage could be thought of, and the oldest man 
in Norway could not call to mind such an autumn. The 



66 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

" Rightly said ; but tell me, is there any thing" from 
which even this bold baron draws back ?" 

u In truth there is one thing, — and we who have never 
left Norway face it quite willingly and joyfully." 

"And that is V 

" A bear-hunt in winter, over trackless plains of snow, 
down frightful ice-covered precipices." 

" Truly thou answerest aright, my comrade. He who 
knows not how to fasten our skates on his feet, how to 
turn in them to the right or left at a moment's warning, 
he may be a valiant knight in other respects, but he had 
better keep aw 7 ay from our hunting parties, and remain 
with his timid wife in her apartments." At which the 
speakers were heard to laugh well pleased, and then to 
betake themselves again to their armourers' work. 

Folko stood long buried in thought. A glow beyond 
that of the evening sky reddened his cheek. Gabriel le 
also remained silent, considering she knew not what. At 
last she took courage, and embracing her beloved, she 
said: "To-morrow thou wilt go forth to hunt the bear, 
wilt thou not? and thou wilt bring the spoils of the chase 
to thy lady?" 

The knight gave a joyful sign of assent; and the rest 
of the evening was spent in dances and music. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

" See, my noble lord," said Sintram the next morning, 
when Folko had expressed his wish of going out with him, 
" these skates of ours give such wings to our course, that 
we go down the mountain-side swiftly as the wind; and 
even in going up again we are too quick for any one to 
be able to pursue us, and on the plains no horse can keep 
up with us ; and yet they can only be worn with safety by 
those who are w 7 ell practised. It seems as though some 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 0/ 

strange spirit dwelt in them, which is fearfully dangerous 
to any that have not learnt the management of them in 
their childhood." 

Folko answered somewhat proudly: u Do you suppose 
that this is the first time that I have been amongst your 
mountains? Years ago I have joined in this sport, and, 
thank heaven, there is no knightly exercise which does not 
speedily become familiar to me." 

Sintram did not venture to make any further objections, 
and still less did old Biorn. They both felt relieved when 
they saw with what skill and ease Folko buckled the skates 
on his feet, without suffering any one to assist him. This 
day they hunted up the mountain in pursuit of a fierce 
bear which had often before escaped from them. Before 
long it was necessary that they should separate, and Sin- 
tram offered himself as companion to Folko, who, touched 
by the humble manner of the youth, and his devotion to 
him, forgot all that had latterly seemed mysterious in the 
pale altered being before him, and agreed heartily. As 
now they continued to climb higher and higher up the 
mountain, and saw from many a giddy height the rocks 
and crags below them looking like a vast expanse of sea 
suddenly turned into ice whilst tossed by a violent tempest, 
the noble Montfaucon drew his breath more freely. He 
poured forth war-songs and love-songs in the clear moun- 
tain air, and the startled echoes repeated from rock to 
rock the lays of his Frankish home. He sprang lightly 
from one precipice to another, using strongly and safely 
his staff for support, and turning now to the right, now 
to the left, as the fancy seized him; so that Sintram was 
fain to exchange his former anxiety for a wondering ad- 
miration, and the hunters, whose eyes had never been 
taken off the baron, burst forth with loud applause, pro- 
claiming far and wide the fresh glory of their guest. 

The good fortune which usually accompanied Folko's 
deeds of arms seemed still unwilling to leave him. Aftej 
a short search, he and Sintram found distinct traces of the 



68 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

savage animal, and with, beating hearts they followed the 
track so swiftly, that even a winged enemy would have 
been unable to escape from them. But the creature whom 
they sought did not attempt a flight — he lay sulkily in a 
cavern near the top of a steep precipitous rock, infuriated 
by the shouts of the hunters, and only waiting in his lazy 
fury for some one to be bold enough to climb up to his 
retreat, that he might tear him to pieces. Folko and Sin- 
tram had now reached the foot of this rock, the rest of 
the hunters being dispersed over the far-extending plain. 
The track led the two companions up the rock, and they 
set about climbing on the opposite sides of it, that they 
might be the more sure of not missing their prey. Folko 
reached the lonely topmost point first, and cast his eyes 
aroundc A wide, boundless tract of country, covered with 
untrodden snow, was spread before him, melting in the 
distance into the lowering clouds of the gloomy evening 
sky. He almost thought that he must have missed the 
traces of the fearful beast ; when close beside him from a 
cleft in the rock issued a long growl, and a huge black 
bear appeared on the snow, standing on its hind legs, and 
with glaring eyes it advanced towards the baron. Sin- 
tram the while was struggling in vain to make his way 
up the rock against the masses of snow continually slip- 
ping down. 

Joyful at a combat so long untried as almost to be 
new, Folko of Montfaucon levelled his hunting spear, and 
awaited the attack of the wild beast. He suffered it to 
approach so near that its fearful claws were almost upon 
him ; then he made a thrust, and the spear-head was 
buried deep in the bear's breast. But the furious beast 
still pressed on with a fierce growl, kept up on its hind 
legs by the cross-iron of the spear, and the knight was 
forced to plant his feet deep in the earth to resist the 
savage assault; and ever close before him the grim and 
blood y face of the bear, and close in his ear its deep 
savage growl, wrung forth partly by the agony of death, 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 69 

partly by thirst for blood. At length the bear's resistance 
grew weaker, and the dark blood streamed freely upon 
the snow; he tottered; and one poAverful thrust hurled 
him backwards over the edge of the precipice. At the 
same instant, Sintram stood by the Baron of Montfaucon. 
Folko said, drawing a deep breatli : " But 1 have not yet 
the prize in my hands, and have it I must, since fortune 
has given me a claim to it. Look, one of my skates seems 
to be out of order. Thinkest thou, Sintram, that it holds 
enough to slide down to the foot of the precipice?" 

" Let me go instead," said Sintram. "I will bring 
you the head and the claws of the bear." 

"A true knight," replied Folko with some disple-asure, 
" never does a knightly deed by halves. What I ask is, 
whether my skate will still hold?" 

As Sintram bent down to look, and was on the point 
of saying " No !" he suddenly heard a voice close to him, 
saying, " Why, yes, to be sure ; there is no doubt about 
it." 

Folko thought that Sintram had spoken, and slid down 
with the swiftness of an arrow, whilst his companion looked 
up in great surprise. The hated form of the little Master 
met his eyes. As he w r as going to address him with angry 
words, he heard the sound of the baron's fearful fall, and 
he stood still in silent horror. There w 7 as a breathless 
silence also in the abyss below. 

" Now, why dost thou delay?" said the little Master, 
after a pause. " He is dashed to pieces. Go back to the 
castle, and take the fair Helen to thyself." 

Sintram shuddered. Then his hateful companion began 
to praise Gabrielle's charms in so glowing, deceiving words, 
that the heart of the youth swelled with emotions he had 
never before known. He only thought of him w T ho was 
now lying at the foot of the rock as of an obstacle removed 
between him and heaven : he turned towards the castle. 

But a cry was heard below : " Help ! help ! my com- 
rade! I am yet alive, but I am sorely w T ounded." 



70 S1NTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

Sintram's will was changed, and he called to the baron, 
" I am coming." 

But the little Master said, u Nothing can be done to 
help Duke Menelaus ; and the fair Helen knows it already. 
She is only waiting for Knight Paris to comfort her." 
And with detestable craft he wove in that tale with what 
was actually happening, bringing in the most highly 
wrought praises of the lovely Gabrielle ; and alas ! the 
dazzled youth yielded to him, and fled ! Again he heard 
far off the baron's voice calling to him, " Knight Sintram, 
Knight Sintram, thou on whom I bestowed the holy order, 
haste to me and help me ! The she-bear and her whelps 
will be upon me, and I cannot use my right arm ! Knight 
Sintram, Knight Sintram, haste to help me !" 

His cries were overpowered by the furious speed with 
which the two were carried along on their skates, and by 
the evil words of the little Master, who was mocking at 
the late proud bearing of Duke Menelaus towards the 
poor Sintram. At last he shouted, " Good luck to you, 
she-bear ! good luck to your whelps ! There is a glorious 
meal for you ! Now you will feed upon the fear of Hea- 
thendom, him at whose name the Moorish brides weep, 
the mighty Baron of Monttaucon. Never again, O dainty 
knight, will you shout at the head of your troops, ' Mount- 
joy St. Denys V " But scarce had this holy name passed 
the lips of the little Master, than he set up a howl of 
anguish, writhing himself with horrible contortions, and 
wringing his hands, and ended by disappearing in a storm 
of snow which then arose. 

Sintram planted his staff firmly in the ground, and 
stopped. How strangely did the wide expanse of snow, 
the distant mountains rising above it, and the dark green 
fir- woods — how strangely did they all look at him in cold 
reproachful silence I He felt as if he must sink under the 
weight of his sorrow and his guilt. The bell of a distant 
hermitage came floating sadly over the plain. With a 
burst of tears he exclaimed, as the darkness grew thicker 



SINTKAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 7i 

round him, u My mother ! my mother ! I had once a be- 
loved tender mother, and she said I was a good child \" 
A ray of comfort came to him as if brought on an anger's 
wing ; perhaps Montf aucon was not yet dead ! and he flew 
like lightning along the path, back to the steep rock. 
When he got to the fearful place, he stooped and looked 
anxiously down the precipice. The moon, just risen in 
full majesty, helped him. The knight of Montfaucon, pale 
and bleeding, was half kneeling against the rock ; his right 
arm, crushed in his fall, hung powerless at his side ; it 
was plain that he could not draw his good sword out of 
the scabbard. But nevertheless he was keeping the bear 
and her young ones at bay by his bold threatening looks, 
so that they only crept round him, growling angrily; 
every moment ready for a fierce attack, but as often driven 
back affrighted at the majestic air by which he conquered 
even when defenceless. 

" Oh ! what a hero would there have perished V 9 groan- 
ed Sintram, " and through whose guilt V 9 In an instant 
his spear flew with so true an aim that the bear fell wel- 
tering in her blood ; the young ones ran away howling. 

The baron looked up with surprise. His countenance 
beamed as the light of the moon fell upon it, grave and 
stern, yet mild, like some angelic vision. " Come down V 
he beckoned ; and Sintram slid down the side of the pre- 
cipice, full of anxious haste. He was going to attend to 
the wounded man, but Folko said, " First cut off the head 
and claws of the bear which I slew. I promised to bring 
the spoils of the chase to my lovely Gabrielle. Then 
come to me, and bind up my wounds. My right arm is 
broken." Sintram obeyed the baron's commands. When 
the tokens of victory had been secured, and the broken 
arm bound up, Folko desired the youth to help him back 
to the castle. 

" O heavens \" said Sintram in a low voice, " if I dared 
to look in your face ! or only knew how to come near 
you!" 



72 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



" Thou wert indeed going on in an evil course/' said 
Montfaucon gravely ; " but how could we, any of us, stand 
before God, did not repentance help us ! At any rate, 
thou hast now saved my life, and let that thought cheer 
thy heart. " 

The youth with tenderness and strength supported the 
baron's left arm, and they both went their way silently in 
the moonlight. 




SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 73 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Sounds of wailing were heard from the castle as they 
approached ; the chapel was solemnly lighted up ; within 
it knelt Gabrielle, lamenting for the death of the knight 
of Montfaucon. 

But how quickly was all changed, when the noble 
baron, pale indeed, and bleeding, yet having escaped all 
mortal danger, stood smiling at the entrance of the holy 
building, and said, in a low, gentle voice, " Look up, 
Gabrielle, and be not affrighted ; for, by the honour of 
my race, thy knight still lives. " Oh ! with what joy did 
Gabrielle' s eyes sparkle, as she turned to her knight, and 
then raised thern again to heaven, still streaming, but from 
the deep source of thankful joy! With the help of two 
pages, Folko knelt down beside her, and they both sanc- 
tified their happiness with a silent prayer. 

AVhen they left the chapel, the wcfunded knight being 
tenderly supported by his lady, Sintram was standing 
without in the darkness, himself as gloomy as the night, 
and, like a bird of the night, shunning the sight of men. 
Yet he came trembling forward into the torch-light, laid 
the bear's head and claws at the feet of Gabrielle, and 
said, "The noble Folko of Montfaucon presents the spoils 
of to-day's chase to his lady." 

The Norwegians burst forth with shouts of joyful sur- 
prise at the stranger knight, who in the very first hunting 
expedition had slain the most fearful and dangerous beast 
of their mountains. 

Then Folko looked around with a smile as he said, 
66 And now none of you must jeer at me, if I stay at home 
for a short time with my timid wife." 

Those who the day before had talked together m the 
armourer's forge came out. from the crowd, and bowing 
low, they replied, " Noble baron, who could have thought 



74 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

that there was no knightly exercise in the whole world 
in the which you would not shew yourself far above all 
other men ?" 

" The pupil of old Sir Hugh may be somewhat trust- 
ed/'* answered Folko kindly. (i But now, you bold north- 
ern warriors, bestow some praises also on my deliverer, 
who saved me from the claws of the she-bear, when I was 
leaning against the rock wounded by my fall/' 

He pointed to Sintram, and the general shout was 
again raised; and old Rolf, with tears of joy in his eyes, 
bent his head over his foster-son's hand. But Sintram 
drew back shuddering. 

" Did you but know,'" said he, " whom you see before 
you, all your spears would be aimed at my heart; and 
perhaps that would be the best thing for me. But I spare 
the honour of my father and of his race, and for this time 
I will not confess. Only this much must you know, noble 



" Young man,"' interrupted Folko with a reproving 
look, "already again so wild and fierce? I desire that 
thou wilt hold thy peace about thy dreaming fancies." 

Sintram was silenced for a moment; but hardly had 
Folko begun smilingly to move towards the steps of the 
castle, than he cried out, " Oh, no, no, noble wounded 
knight, stay yet awhile ; I will serve thee in every thing 
that thy heart can desire ; but herein I cannot serve thee. 
Brave warriors, you must and shall know so much as this : 
I am no longer worthy to live under the same roof with 
the noble Baron of Montfaucon and his angelic wife Ga- 
brielle. And you, my aged father, good night; long not 
for me. I intend to live in the stone fortress on the Bocks 
of the Moon, till a change of some kind come over me." 

There was that in his way of speaking against which 
no one dared to set himself, not even Folko. 

The wild Biorn bowed his head humbly, and said, 
i€ Do according to thy pleasure, my poor son ; for I fear 
that thou art right." 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 75 

Tlien Sintram walked solemnly and silently through 
the castle-gate, followed by the good Rolf. Gabrielle led 
her exhausted lord up to their apartments. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

That was a mournful journey on which the youth and his 
aged foster-father went towards the Rocks of the Moon, 
through the wild tangled paths of the snow-clad valleys. 
Rolf from time to time sang some verses of hymns, in 
which comfort and peace were promised to the penitent 
sinner, and Sintram thanked him for them with looks of 
grateful sadness. Neither of them spoke a word else. 

At length, when the dawn of day was approaching, 
Sintram broke silence by saying, " Who are those two 
sitting yonder by the frozen stream — a tall man and a 
little one ? Their own wild hearts must have driven them 
also forth into the wilderness. Rolf, dost thou know 
them? The sight of them makes me shudder." 

" Sir," answered the old man, " your disturbed mind 
deceives you. There stands a lofty fir-tree, and the old 
weather-beaten stump of an oak, half-covered with snow 
which gives them a somewhat strange appearance. There 
are no men sitting yonder." 

" But, Rolf, look there ! look again carefully ! Now 
they move, they whisper together." 

" Sir, the morning breeze moves the branches, and 
whistles in the sharp pine-leaves and in the yellow oak- 
leaves, and rustles the crisp snow." 

" Rolf, now they are both coming towards us. Now 
they are standing before us, quite close." 

" Sir, it is we who get nearer to them as we walk on, 
and the setting moon throws such long giant-like shadows 
over the plain." 

" Good evening !" said a hollow voice ; and Sintram 



76 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

knew it was the crazy pilgrim, near to whom stood the 
malignant little Master, looking more hideous than ever. 

" You are right, sir knight/' whispered Rolf, as he 
drew back behind Sintram, and made the sign of the cross 
on his breast and his forehead. 

The bewildered youth, however, advanced towards the 
two figures, and said, " You have always taken wonderful 
pleasure in being my companions. What do you expect 
will come of it ? And do you choose to go now with me 
to the stone fortress? There I will tend thee, poor pale 
pilgrim ; and as to thee, frightful Master, most evil dwarf, 
I will make thee shorter by the head, to reward thee for 
thy deeds yesterday. " 

" That would be a fine thing," sneered the little Mas- 
ter; " and perhaps thou imaginest that thou wouldst be 
doing a great service to the whole world? And, indeed, 
who knows ? Something might be gained by it ! Only, 
poor wretch, thou canst not do it." 

The pilgrim meantime was waving his pale head to 
and fro thoughtfully, saying, " I believe truly, that thou 
wouldst willingly have me, and I would go to thee will- 
ingly, but I may not yet. Have patience awhile ; thou 
wilt yet surely see me come, but at a distant time ; and 
first we must again visit thy father together, and then 
also thou wilt learn to call me by my right name, my 
poor friend." 

" Beware of disappointing me again !" said the little 
Master to the pilgrim in a threatening voice ; but he, 
pointing with his long, shrivelled hand towards the sun, 
w T hich was just now rising, said, " Stop either that sun or 
me, if thou canst I" 

Then the first rays fell on the snow, and little Master 
ran, muttering, down a precipice ; but the pilgrim walked 
on in the bright beams, calmly and with great solemnity, 
towards a neighbouring castle on the mountain. It was 
not long before its chapel-bell was heard tolling for the 
dead. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 77 

(i For heaven's sake," whispered the good Rolf to his 
knight — "for heaven's sake, Sir Sintram, what kind of 
companions have you here ? One of them cannot bear the 
light of God's blessed sun, and the other has no sooner 
set foot in a dwelling than tidings of death wail after his 
track. Could he have been a murderer ?" 

" I do not think that," said Sintram. u He seemed 
to me the best of the two. But it is a strange wilfulness 
of his not to come with me. Did I not invite him kindly? 
I believe that he can sing well, and he should have sung 
to me some gentle lullab}". Since my mother has lived 
in a cloister, no one sings lullabies to me any more." 

At this tender recollection his eyes were bedewed with 
tears. But he did not himself know what he had said 
besides, for there was wildness and confusion in his spirit. 
They arrived at the Rocks of the Moon, and mounted 
up to the stone fortress. The castellan, an old, gloomy 
man, the more devoted to the young knight from his dark 
melancholy and wild deeds, hastened to lower the draw- 
bridge. Greetings were exchanged in silence, and in si- 
lence did Sintram enter, and those joyless gates closed 
with a crash behind the future recluse. 



CHAPTER XX. 

Yes truly, a recluse, or at least something like it, did 
poor Sintram now become ! For towards the time of the 
approaching Christmas festival his fearful dreams came 
over him, and seized him so fiercely, that all the esquires 
and servants fled with shrieks out of the castle, and w r ould 
never venture back again. No one remained with him 
except Rolf and the old castellan. After a while, indeed, 
Sintram became ca-kn, but he went about looking so pallid 
and still, that he might have been taken for a wandering 
corpse. No comforting of the good Rolf, no devout sooth- 



78 SINTKAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

ing lays, were of any avail ; and the castellan, with his 
fierce, scarred features, his head almost entirely bald from 
a huge sword-cut, his stubborn silence, seemed like a yet 
darker shadow of the miserable knight. Rolf often thought 
of going to summon the holy chaplain of Drontheim ; but 
how could he have left his lord alone with the gloomy 
castellan, a man who at all times raised in him a secret 
horror? Biorn had long had this wild strange warrior in 
his service, and honoured him on account of his unshaken 
fidelity and his fearless courage, though neither the knight 
nor any one else knew whence the castellan came, nor, 
indeed, exactly who he was. Very few people knew by 
what name to call him ; but that was the more needless, 
since he never entered into discourse with any one. He 
was the castellan of the stone fortress on the Rocks of the 
Moon, and nothing more. 

Rolf committed his deep heartfelt cares to the merciful 
God, trusting that He would soon come to his aid ; and 
the merciful God did not fail him. For on Christmas-eve 
the bell at the drawbridge sounded, and Rolf, looking over 
the battlements, saw the chaplain of Drontheim standing 
there, with a companion, indeed, that surprised him, — for 
close beside him appeared the crazy pilgrim, and the dead 
men's bones on his dark mantle shone very strangely in 
the glimmering starlight : but the sight of the chaplain 
filled the good Rolf too full of joy to leave room for any 
doubt in his mind ; for, thought he, whoever comes with 
him cannot but be welcome! And so he let them both 
in with respectful haste, and ushered them up to the hall, 
where Sintram, pale and with a fixed look, was sitting 
under the light of one nickering lamp. Rolf was obliged 
to support and assist the crazy pilgrim up the stairs, for 
he was quite benumbed with cold. 

" I bring you a greeting from your mother/' said the 
chaplain as he came in ; and immediately a sweet smile 
passed over the young knight's countenance, and its deadly 
pallidness gave place to a bright soft glow. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 79 

Ci O heaven V 9 murmured he, " does then my mother 
yet live, and does she care to know any thing about 
me?" 

" She is endowed with a wonderful presentiment of 
the future," replied the chaplain ; " and all that you ought 
either to do or to leave undone is faithfully mirrored in 
various ways in her mind, during a half-waking trance. 
Now she knows of your deep sorrow ; and she sends me, 
the father-confessor of her convent, to comfort you, but 
at the same time to warn you ; for, as she affirms, and as I 
am also inclined to think, many strange and heavy trials 
lie before you." 

Sintram bowed himself towards the chaplain with his 
arms crossed over his breast, and said, with a gentle smile, 
" Much have I been favoured — more, a thousand times 
more, than I could have dared to hope in my best hours — 
by this greeting from my mother, and your visit, reverend 
sir; and all after falling more fearfully low that I had 
ever fallen before. The mercy of the Lord is great ; and 
how heavy soever may be the weight and punishment 
which He may send, I trust, with His grace, to be able 
to bear it." 

Just then the door opened, and the castellan came in 
with a torch in his hand, the red glare of which made his 
face look the colour of blood. He cast a terrified glanc.p 
at the crazy pilgrim, who had just sunk back in a swoon, 
and w T as supported on his seat and tended by Rolf; then 
he stared with astonishment at the chaplain, and at last 
murmured, " A strange meeting ! I believe that the hour 
for confession and reconciliation is now arrived." 

" I believe so too," replied the priest, who had heard 
his low whisper; " this seems to be truly a day rich in 
grace and peace. That poor man yonder, whom I found 
half frozen by the way, would make a full confession to 
me at once, before he followed me to a place of shelter. 
Do as he has done, my dark-browed warrior, and delay 
not your good purpose for one instant." 



80 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

Thereupon he left the room with the willing castellan, 
but he turned back to say, " Sir Knight, and your es- 
quire ! take good care the while of my sick charge." 

Sintram and Rolf did according to the chaplain's de- 
sire : and when at length their cordials made the pilgrim 
open his eyes once again, the young knight said to him, 
with a friendly smile, " Seest thou? thou art come to 
visit me after all. Why didst thou refuse me when, a few 
nights ago, I asked thee so earnestly to come? Perhaps 
I may have spoken wildly and hastily. Did that scare 
thee away?" 

A sudden expression of fear came over the pilgrim's 
countenance ; but soon he again looked up at Sintram with 
an air of gentle humility, saying, " my dear, dear lord, 
I am most entirely devoted to you— only never speak to 
me of former passages between you and me. I am ter- 
rified whenever you do it. For, my lord, either I am 
mad and have forgotten all that is past, or that Being 
has met you in the wood, whom I look upon as my very 
powerful twin-brother." 

Sintram laid his hand gently on the pilgrim's mouth, 
as he answered, " Say nothing more about that matter : 
I most willingly promise to be silent." 

Neither he nor old Rolf could understand what ap- 
peared to them so awful in the whole matter; but both 
shuddered. 

After a short pause, the pilgrim said, " I would rather 
sing you a song — a soft, comforting song. Have you not 
a lute here ?" 

Rolf fetched one; and the pilgrim", half-raising himself 
on the couch, sang the following words : 

" When death is coming near, 
When thy heart shrinks in fear 

And thy limbs fail, 
Then raise thy hands and pray 
To Him who smoothes thy way 
Through the dark vale. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 81 

Seest thou the eastern dawn, 
Hear'st thou in the red morn 

The angel's song ? 
Oh, lift thy drooping head, 
Thou who in gloom and dread 

Hast lain so long. 

Death comes to set thee free ; 
Oh, meet him cheerily 

As thy true friend, 
And all thy fears shall cease, 
And in eternal peace 

Thy penance end." 

" Amen," said Sintram and Rolf, folding their hands ; 
and whilst the last chords of the lute still resounded, the 
chaplain and the castellan came slowly and gently into 
the room. " I bring a precious Christmas gift," said the 
priest. " After many sad years, hope of reconciliation 
and peace of conscience are returning to a noble, disturbed 
mind. This concerns thee, beloved pilgrim ; and do thou, 
my Sintram, with a joyful trust in God, take encourage- 
ment and example from it." 

" More than twenty years ago," began the castellan, 
at a sign from the chaplain — "more than twenty years 
ago I was a bold shepherd, driving my flock up the moun- 
tains. A young knight followed me, whom they called 
Weigancl the Slender. He wanted to buy of me my fa- 
vourite little lamb for his fair bride, and offered me much 
red gold for it. I sturdily refused. Overbold youth boiled 
up in us both. A stroke of his sword hurled me senseless 
down the precipice." 

" Not killed?" asked the pilgrim in a scarce audible 
voice. 

" I am no ghost," replied the castellan, somewhat 
morosely ; and then, after an earnest look from the priest, 
he continued, more humbly : " I recovered slowly and in 
solitude, with the help of remedies which were easily found 

G 



82 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

by me, a shepherd, in our productive valleys. When I 
came back into the world, no man knew me, with my 
scarred face, and my now bald head. I heard a report 
going through the country, that on account of this deed 
of his, Sir Weigand the Slender had been rejected by his 
fair betrothed Verena, and how he had pined away, and 
she had wished to retire into a convent, but her father 
had persuaded her to marry the great knight Biorn. 
Then there came a fearful thirst for vengeance into my 
heart, and I disowned my name, and my kindred, and 
my home, and entered the service of the mighty Biorn, as 
a strange wild man, in order that Weigand the Slender 
should always remain a murderer, and that I might feed 
on his anguish. So have I fed upon it for all these long 
years ; I have fed frightfully upon his self-imposed banish- 
ment, upon his cheerless return home, upon his madness. 
But to-day — " and hot tears gushed from his eyes — '• but 
to-day God has broken the hardness of my heart; and, 
dear Sir Weigand, look upon yourself no more as a mur- 
derer, and say that you will forgive me, and pray for him 
who has done you so fearful an injury, and — " 

Sobs choked his words. He fell at the feet of the pil- 
grim, w 7 ho with tears of joy pressed him to his heart, in 
token of forgiveness. 



CHAPTER XXL 

The joy of this hour passed from its first overpowering 
brightness to the calm, thoughtful aspect of daily life; 
and Weigand, now restored to health, laid aside the man- 
tle with dead men's bones, saying : " I had chosen for my 
penance to carry these fearful remains about with me, with 
the thought that some of them might have belonged to 
him whom I have murdered. Therefore I sought for them 
round about, in the deep beds of the mountain- torrents, 
and in the high nests of the eagles and vultures. And 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 83 

while I was searching, I sometimes — could it have been 
only an illusion? — seemed to meet a being who was very 
like myself, but far, far more powerful, and yet still paler 
and more haggard." 

An imploring look from Sintram stopped the flow of 
his words. With a gentle smile, Wei gaud bowed towards 
him, and said : " You know now all the deep, unutterably 
deep, sorrow which preyed upon me. My fear of you, 
and my yearning love for you, are no longer an enigma to 
your kind heart. For, dear youth, though you may be 
like your fearful father, you have also the kind, gentle 
heart of your mother ; and its reflection brightens your 
pallid, stern features, like the glow of a morning sky, 
which lights up ice-covered mountains and snowy valleys 
with the soft radiance of joy. But, alas ! how long you 
have lived alone amidst your fellow-creatures ! And how 
long since you have seen your mother, my dearly loved 
Sintram !" 

" I feel, too, as though a spring were gushing up in 
the barren wilderness," replied the youth ; " and I should 
perchance be altogether restored, could I but keep you 
long with me, and weep with you, dear lord. But I have 
that within me which says that you will very soon be taken 
from me." 

" I believe, indeed," said the pilgrim, " that my late 
song was very nearly my last, and that it contained a pre- 
diction full soon to be accomplished in me. But, as the 
soul of man is always like the thirsty ground, the more 
blessings God has bestowed on us, the more earnestly do 
we look out for new ones ; so would I crave for one more 
before, as I hope, my blessed end. Yet, indeed, it cannot 
be granted me," added he, with a faltering voice; " for I 
feel myself too utterly unworthy of so high a gift." 

" But it will be granted I" said the chaplain, joyfully. 
" e He that humbleth himself shall be exalted;' and I fear 
not to take one purified from murder to receive a farewell 
from the holy and forgiving countenance of Verena." 



84 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

The pilgrim stretched both his hands up towards hea- 
ven, and an unspoken thanksgiving poured from his beam- 
ing eyes, and brightened the smile that played on his 
lips. 

Sintram looked sorrowfully on the ground, and sighed 
gently to himself: " Alas ! who would dare accompany?" 

" My poor, good Sintram/ 7 said the chaplain, in a tone 
of the softest kindness, " I understand thee well; but the 
time is not yet come. The powers of evil will again raise 
up their wrathful heads within thee, and Verena must 
check both her own and thy longing desires, until all is 
pure in thy spirit as in hers. Comfort thyself with the 
thought that God looks mercifully upon thee, and that the 
joy so earnestly sought for will come — if not here, most 
assuredly beyond the grave." 

But the pilgrim, as though awaking out of a trance, 
rose mightily from his seat, and said: " Do you please to 
come forth with me, reverend chaplain ? Before the sun 
appears in the heavens, we cpuld reach the convent-gates, 
and I should not be far from heaven." 

In vain did the chaplain and Bolf remind him of his 
weakness : he smiled, and said that there could be no words 
about it ; and he girded himself, and tuned the lute which 
he had asked leave to take with him. His decided man- 
ner overcame all opposition, almost without words ; and 
the chaplain had already prepared himself for the journey, 
when the pilgrim looked with much emotion at Sintram, 
who, oppressed with a strange weariness, had sunk, half 
asleep, on a couch, and said : " Wait a moment. I know 
that he wants me to give him a soft lullaby." The pleased 
smile of the youth seemed to say, Yes ; and the pilgrim, 
touching the strings with a light hand, sang these words : 

" Sleep peacefully, dear boy ; 
Thy mother sends the song 
That whispers round thy couch, 
To lull thee all night lon°r 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS, 85 

In silence and afar 

For thee she ever prays, 
And longs once more in fondness 

Upon thy face to gaze. 

And when thy waking cometh, 

Then in thy every deed, 
In all that may betide thee, 

Unto her words give heed. 
Oh, listen for her voice, 

If it be yea or nay ; 
And though temptation meet thee, 

Thou shalt not miss the way. 

If thou canst listen rightly, 

And nobly onward go, 
Then pure and gentle breezes 

Around thy cheeks shall blow. 
Then on thy peaceful journey 

Her blessing thou shalt feel, 
And though from thee divided, 

Her presence o'er thee steal. 

O safest, sweetest comfort 

O blest and living light ! 
That, strong in heaven's power, 

All terrors puts to flight ! 
Rest quietly, sweet child, 

And may the gentle numbers 
Thy mother sends to thee 

AY aft peace unto thy slumbers." 

Sintram fell into a deep sleep, smiling, and breathing 
softly. Rolf and the castellan remained by his bed, whilst 
the two travellers pursued their way in the quiet star- 
light. 









A K 




CHAPTER XXII. 

The dawn had almost appeared, when Rolf, who had beers 
asleep, was awakened by low singing; and as he looked 
round, he perceived, with surprise, that the sounds came 
from the lips of the castellan, who said, as if in explana- 
tion, " So does Sir Weigand sing at the convent-gates, 
and they are kindly opened to him." Upon which, old 
Rolf fell asleep again, uncertain whether what had passed 
had been a dream or a reality. After a while the bright 
sunshine awoke him again ; and when he rose up, he saw 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 87 

the countenance of the castellan wonderfully illuminated 
by the red morning rays ; and altogether those features, 
once so fearful, were shining with a soft, nay almost child- 
like mildness. The mysterious man seemed to be the while 
listening to the motionless air, as if he were hearing a most 
pleasant discourse or lofty music ; and as Rolf was about 
to speak, he made him a sign of entreaty to remain quiet, 
and continued in his eager listening attitude. 

At length he sank slowly and contentedly back in his 
seat, whispering, " God be praised ! She has granted his 
last prayer ; he will be laid in the burial-ground of the 
convent, and now he has forgiven me in the depths of his 
heart. I can assure you that he finds a peaceful end." 

Rolf did not dare ask a question, or awake his lord ; 
he felt as if one already departed had spoken to him. 

The castellan long remained still, always smiling 
brightly. At last he raised himself a little, again listened, 
and said, " It is over. The sound of the bells is very sweet. 
NVe have overcome. Oh, how soft and easy does the good 
God make it to us I" And so it came to pass. He stretched 
himself back as if weary, and his soul was freed from his 
care-worn body. 

Rolf now gently awoke his young knight, and pointed 
to the smiling dead. And Sintram smiled too ; he and 
his good esquire fell on their knees, and prayed to God for 
the departed spirit. Then they rose up, and bore the cold 
body to the vaulted hall, and watched by it with holy 
candles until the return of the chaplain. That the pilgrim 
would not come back again, they very well knew. 

Accordingly towards mid-day the chaplain returned 
alone. He could scarcely do more than confirm what was 
already known to them. He only added a comforting and 
hopeful greeting from Sintram's mother to her son, and 
told that the blissful TTeigand had fallen asleep like a tired 
child, whilst Verena, with calm tenderness, held a crucifix 
before him. 

" And in eternal peace our penance end \ n 



88 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

sang Sintram, gently to himself; and they prepared a last 
resting-place for the now so peaceful castellan, and laid 
him therein with all the due solemn rites. 

The chaplain was obliged soon afterwards to depart ; 
but bidding Sintram farewell, he again said kindly to him, 
" Thy dear mother assuredly knows how gentle and calm 
and good thou art now I" 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

In the castle of Sir Biorn of the Fiery Eyes, Christmas- 
eve had not passed so brightly and happily ; but yet, there 
too all had gone visibly according to God's will. 

Folko, at the entreaty of the lord of the castle, had 
allowed Gabrielle to support him into the hall; and the 
three now sat at the round stone table, whereon a sumptu- 
ous meal was laid. On either side there were long tables, 
at which sat the retainers of both knights in full armour, 
according to the custom of the north. Torches and lamps 
lighted the lofty hall with an almost dazzling brightness. 

Midnight had now begun its solemn reign, and Gabri- 
elle softly reminded her wounded knight to withdraw. 
Biorn heard her, and said: u You are right, fair lady; 
our knight needs rest. Only let us first keep up one more 
old honourable custom." 

And at his sign four attendants brought in with pomp 
a great boar's head, which looked as if cut out of solid 
gold, and placed it in the middle of the stone table. Biorn's 
retainers rose with reverence, and took off their helmets ; 
Biorn himself did the same. 

" What means this V 9 asked Folko very gravely. 

"What thy forefathers and mine have done on every 
Yule feast," answered Biorn. "We are going to make 
vows on the boar's head, and then pass the goblet round 
to their fulfilment." 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 89 

~" We no longer keep what our ancestors called the Yule 
feast," said Folko ; " we are good Christians, and we keep 
holy Christmas-tide." 

"To do the one, and not to leave the other undone," 
answered Biorn. "I hold my ancestors too dear to forget 
their knightly customs. Those who think otherwise may 
act according to their wisdom, but that shall not hinder 

me. I swear by the golden boar's head ." And he 

stretched out his hand, to lay it solemnly upon it. 

But Folko called out, " In the name of our holy Sa- 
viour, forbear. Where I am, and still have breath and 
will, none shall celebrate undisturbed the rites of the wild 
heathens." 

Biorn of the Fiery Eyes glared angrily at him. The 
men of the two barons separated from each other, with a 
hollow sound of rattling armour, and ranged themselves 
in two bodies on either side of the hall, each behind its 
leader. Already here and there helmets were fastened 
and visors closed. 

" Bethink thee yet what thou art doing," said Biorn. 
" I was about to vow an eternal union with the house of 
Montfaucon, nay, even to bind myself to do it grateful 
homage ; but if thou disturb me in the customs which have 
come to me from my forefathers, look to thy safety and 
the safety of all that is dear to thee. My wrath no longer 
knows any bounds." 

Folko made a sign to the pale Gabrielle to retire behind 
his followers, saying to her, " Be of good cheer, iny noble 
wife, weaker Christians have braved, for the sake of God 
and of His holy Church, greater dangers than now seem 
to threaten us. Believe me, the Lord of Montfaucon is 
not so easily ensnared." 

Gabrielle obeyed, something comforted by Folko's fear- 
less smile, but this smile inflamed yet more the fury of 
Biorn. He again stretched out his hand towards the 
boar's head, as if about to make some dreadful vow, when 
Folko snatched a o-auntlet of Biorn's off the table, with 




which he, with his unwounded left arm, struck so powerful 
a blow on the gilt idol, that it fell crashing to the ground, 
shivered to pieces. Biorn and his followers stood as if 
turned to stone. But soon swords were grasped by armed 
hands, shields were taken down from the walls, and an 
angry, threatening murmur sounded through the hall. 

At a sign from Folko, a battle-axe was brought him by 
one of his faithful retainers ; he swung it high in air with 
his powerful left hand, and stood looking like an aven- 
ging angel as he spoke these words through the tumult 
with awful calmness: u What seek ye, O deluded North- 
men ? What w r ouldst thou, sinful lord ? Ye are indeed 
become heathens ; and I hope to shew you, by my readiness 
for battle, that it is not in my right arm alone that God 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 9 L 

has put strength for victory. But if ye can yet hear, listen 
to my words. Biorn, on this same accursed, and now, 
by God's help, shivered boar's head, thou didst lay thy 
hand when thou clidst swear to sacrifice any inhabitants of 
the German towns that should fall into thy power. And 
Gotthard Lentz came, and Rucllieb came, driven on these 
shores by the storm. What didst thou then do, O savage 
Biorn? What did ye do at his bidding, ye who were 
keeping the Yule feast with him ? Try your fortune on 
me. The Lord will be with me, as He was with those holy 
men. To arms, and — " (he turned to his warriors) "let 
our battle-cry be Gotthard and Rudlieb I" 

Then Biorn let drop his drawn sword, then his followers 
paused, and none among the Norwegians dared lift his eyes 
from the ground. By degrees, they one by one began to 
disappear from the hall : and at last Biorn stood quite 
alone opposite to the baron and his followers. He seemed 
hardly aware that he had been deserted, but he fell on 
his knees, stretched out his shining sword, pointed to the 
broken boar's head, and said, " Do with me as you have 
done with that ; I deserve no better. I ask but one favour, 
only one j do not disgrace me, noble baron, by seeking 
shelter in another castle of Norway." 

" I fear you not/' answered Folko, after some thought ; 
" and, as far as may be, I freely forgive you." Then he 
drew the sign of the cross over the wild form of Biorn, and 
left the hall with Gabrielle. The retainers of the house 
of Montfaucon followed him proudly and silently. 

The hard spirit of the fierce lord of the castle was now 
quite broken, and he watched with increased humility 
every look of Folko and Gabrielle. But they withdrew 
more and more into the happy solitude of their own apart- 
ments, where they enjoyed, in the midst of the sharp 
winter, a bright spring-tide of happiness. The wounded 
condition of Folko did not hinder the evening delights of 
songs and music and poetry — but rather a new charm was 
added to them when the tall, handsome knight leant on 



92 SINTRAM: AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

the arm of his delicate lady, and they thus, changing as it 
were their deportment and duties, walked slowly through 
the torch-lit halls, scattering their kindly greetings like 
flowers among the crowds of men and women. 

All this time little or nothing was heard of poor Sin- 
tram. The last wild outbreak of his father had increased 
the terror with which Gabriellr remembered the self- ac- 
cusations of the youth ; and the more resolutely Folko kept 
silence, the more did she bode some dreadful mystery. 
Indeed, a secret shudder came over the knight when he 
thought on the pale, dark-haired youth. Sin tram's re- 
pentance had bordered on settled despair; no one knew 
even what he was doing in the fortress of evil-report on 
the Rocks of the Moon. Strange rumours were brought 
by the retainers who had fled from it, that the evil spirit 
had obtained complete power over Sintram, that no man 
could stay with him, and that the fidelity of the dark mys- 
terious castellan had cost him his life. 

Folko could hardly drive away the fearful suspicion that 
the lonely young knight was become a wicked magician. 

And perhaps, indeed, evil spirits did flit about the ba- 
nished Sintram, but it was without his calling them up. 
In his dreams he often saw the wicked enchantress Venus, 
in her golden chariot drawn by winged cats, pass over the 
battlements of the stone fortress, and heard her say, mock- 
ing him, " Foolish. Sintram, foolish Sintram! hadst thou 
but obeyed the little Master ! Thou wouldst now be in 
Helen's arms, and the Rocks of the Moon would be called 
the Rocks of Love, and the stone fortress would be the 
garden of roses. Thou wouldst have lost thy pale face and 
dark hair, — for thou art only enchanted, dear youth, — and 
thine eyes would have beamed more softly, and thy cheeks 
bloomed more freshly, and thy hair would have been more 
golden than was that of Prince Paris when men wondered 
at his beauty. Oh, how Helen would have loved thee !" 
Then she shew T ed him in a mirror, how, as a marvellously 
beautiful knight, he knelt before Gabrielle, who sank into 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 93 

his arms blushing as the morning. When he awoke from 
such dreams, jfce would seize eagerly the sword and scarf 
given him by his lady, — as a shipwrecked man seizes the 
plank which is to save him ; and while the hot tears fell on 
them, he would murmur to himself, " There was, indeed, 
one hour in my sad life when I was worthy and happy." 

Once he sprang up at midnight after one of these 
dreams, but this time with more thrilling horror ; for it 
had seemed to him that the features of the enchantress 
Yenus had changed towards the end of her speech, as she 
looked down upon him w T ith marvellous scorn, and she 
appeared to him as the hideous little Master. The youth 
had no better means of calming his distracted mind than 
to throw the sword and scarf of Gabrielle over his shoul- 
ders, and to hasten forth under the solemn starry canopy 
• of the wintry sky. He w 7 alked in deep thought backwards 
and forwards under the leafless oaks and the snow-laden 
firs which grew on the high ramparts. 

Then he heard a sorrowful cry of distress sound from 
the moat ; it was as if some one were attempting to sing, 
but was stopped by inward grief. Sintram exclaimed, 
" Who's there?" and all was still. When he was silent, 
and again began his walk, the frightful groanings and 
meanings were heard afresh, as if they came from a dying 
person. Sintram overcame the horror which seemed to 
hold him back, and began in silence to climb down into 
the deep dry moat which was cut in the rock. He was 
soon so low down that he could no longer see the stars 
shining; beneath him moved a shrouded form ; and sliding 
with involuntary haste down the steep descent, he stood 
near the groaning figure ; it ceased its lamentations, and 
began to laugh like a maniac from beneath its long, folded, 
female garments. 

" Oh, ho, my comrade ! oh, ho, my comrade ! wert thou 
going a little too fast? Well, well, it is all right ; and see 
now, thou standest no higher than I, my pious, valiant 
vouth ! Take it patiently, — take it patiently !" 



94 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

"What dost thou want with me? Why dost thou 
laugh ? why dost thou weep ?" asked Sintram impatiently. 

" I might ask thee the same questions/' answered the 
dark figure, " and thou wouldst be less able to answer 
me than I to answer thee. Why dost thou laugh ? why 
dost thou weep? — Poor creature! But I will shew thee 
a remarkable thing in thy fortress, of which thou knowest 
nothing. Give heed \" 

And the shrouded figure began to scratch and scrape 
at the stones till a little iron door opened, and shewed a 
long passage which led into the deep darkness. 

" Wilt thou come with me ?" whispered the strange 
being : "it is the shortest way to thy father's castle. In 
half an hour we shall come out of this passage, and we 
shall be in thy beauteous lady's apartment. Duke Mene- 
laus shall lie in a magic sleep, — leave that to me, — and 
then thou wilt take the slight, delicate form in thine arms, 
and bring her to the Rocks of the Moon ; so thou wilt win 
back all that seemed lost by thy former w r avering." 

Sintram trembled visibly, fearfully shaken to and fro 
by the fever of passion and the stings of conscience. But 
at last, pressing the sword and scarf to his heart, he cried 
out, " Oh ! that fairest, most glorious hour of my life ! If 
I lose all other joys, I will hold fast that brightest hour !" 

" A bright, glorious hour !" said the figure from under 
its veil, like an evil echo. " Dost thou know wdiom thou 
then conqueredst ? A good old friend, who only shewed 
himself so sturdy to give thee the glory of overcoming 
him. Wilt thou convince thyself? Wilt thou look?" 

The dark garments of the little figure flew open, and 
the dwarf warrior in strange armour, the gold horns on 
his helmet, and the curved spear in his hand, the very 
same whom Sintram thought he had slain on Niflung's 
Heath, now stood before him and laughed : " Thou seest, 
my youth, every thing in the wide world is but dreams 
and froth ; wherefore hold fast the dream which delights 
thee, and sip up the froth which refreshes thee ! Hasten tc 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 95 

that underground passage, it leads up to thy angel Helen. 
Or wouldst thou first know thy friend yet better?''' 

His visor opened, and the hateful face of the little 
Master glared upon the knight. Sintram asked, as if in a 
dream, " Art thou also that wicked enchantress Venus V* 

" Something like her," answered the little Master, 
laughing, " or rather she is something like me. And if 
thou wilt only get disenchanted, and recover the beauty 
of Prince Paris, — then, Prince Paris," and his voice 
changed to an alluring song, " then, Prince Paris, I 
shall be fair like thee !" 

At this moment the good Rolf appeared above on the 
rampart ; a consecrated taper in his lantern shone down 
into the moat, as he sought for the missing young knight. 
"In God's name, Sir Sintram," he called out, u what hab 
the spectre of him whom you slew on Niflung's Heath, 
and whom I never could bury, to do with you V 9 

u Seest thou well? hearest thou well?" whispered the 
little Master, and drew back into the darkness of the un- 
derground passage. " The wise man up there knows me 
well. There was nothing in thy heroic feat. Come, take 
the joys of life while thou mayst." 

But Sintram sprang back, with a strong effort, into 
the circle of light made by the shining of the taper from 
above, and cried out, " Depart from rae ; unquiet spirit ! 
I know well that I bear a name on me in which thou canst 
have no part." 

Little Master rushed in fear and rage into the passage, 
and, yelling, shut the iron door behind him. It seemed 
as if he could still be heard groaning and roaring. 

Sintram climbed up the wall of the moat, and made a 
sign to his foster-father not to speak to him : he only said, 
u One of my best joys, yes, the very best, has been taken 
from me ; but, by God's kelp, I am not yet lost." 

In the earliest light of the following morning, he and 
Rolf stopped up the entrance to the perilous passage with 
huge blocks of stone. 



96 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

The long northern winter was at last ended, the fresh 
green leaves rustled merrily in the woods, patches of soft 
moss twinkled amongst the rocks, the valleys grew green, 
the brooks sparkled, the snow melted from all but the 
highest mountain-tops, and the bark which was ready to 
carry away Folko and Gabrielle danced on the sunny 
waves of the sea. The baron, now quite recovered, and 
strong and fresh as though his health had sustained no 
injury, stood one morning on the shore with his fair lady; 
and, full of glee at the prospect of returning to their home, 
the noble pair looked on well pleased at their attendants 
who were busied in lading the ship. 

Then said one of them in the midst of a confused sound 
of talking: "But what has appeared to me the most fear- 
ful and the most strange thing in this northern land is the 
stone fortress on the Rocks of the Moon: I have never, 
indeed, been inside it, but when I used to see it in our 
huntings, towering above the tall fir-trees, there came a 
tightness over my breast, as if something unearthly were 
dwelling in it. And a few weeks ago, when the snow was 
yet lying hard in the valleys, I came unawares quite close 
upon the strange building. The young knight Sintram 
was walking alone on the ramparts as twilight came on, 
like the spirit of a departed knight, and he drew from the 
lute which he carried such soft, melancholy tones, and he 
sighed so deeply and sorrowfully . . . ." 

The voice of the speaker was drowned in the noise of 
the crow T d, and as he also just then reached the ship with 
his package hastily fastened up, Folko and Gabrielle could 
not hear the rest of his speech. But the fair lady looked 
on her knight with eyes dim with tears, and sighed: "Is 
it not behind those mountains that the Rocks of the Moon 
lie? The unhappy Sintram makes me sad at heart." 

" I understand thee, sweet gracious lady, and the pure 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 97 

compassion of thy heart," replied Folko ; instantly ordering 
his swift-iboted steed to be brought. He placed his noble 
lady under the charge of his retainers, and leaping into 
the saddle, he hastened, followed by the grateful smiles of 
Gabrielle, along the valley towards the stone fortress. 

Sintram was seated near the drawbridge, touching the 
strings of the lute, and shedding some tears on the golden 
chords, almost as Montfaucon' s esquire had described him. 
Suddenly a cloudy shadow passed over him, and he looked 
up, expecting to see a flight of cranes in the air ; but the 
sky was clear and blue. While the young knight was still 
wondering, a long bright spear fell at his feet from a battle- 
ment of the armory-turret. 

" Take it up, — make good use of it ! thy foe is near 
at hand ! Near also is the downfal of thy dearest happi- 
ness." Thus he heard it distinctly whispered in his ear ; 
and it seemed to him that he saw the shadow of the little 
Master glide close by him to a neighbouring cleft in the 
rock. But at the same time also, a tall, gigantic, haggard 
figure passed along the valley, in some measure like the 
departed pilgrim, only much, very much larger, and he 
raised his long bony arm fearfully threatening, then dis- 
appeared in an ancient tomb. 

At the very same instant Sir Folko of Montfaucon came 
swiftly as the wind up the Rocks of the Moon, and he must 
have seen something of those strange apparitions, for as he 
stopped close behind Sintram, he looked rather pale, and 
asked low and earnestly : " Sir knight, who are those two 
with whom you were just now holding converse here V 

"The good God knows," answered Sintram ; " I know 
them not." " If the good God does but know!" cried 
Montfaucon: "but I fear me that He knows very little 
more of you or your deeds." 

"You speak strangely harsh words," said Sintram. 
" Yet ever since that evening of misery, — alas! and even 
long before, — I must bear with all that comes from you. 
Dear sir, you may believe me, I know not those fearful 

H 



98 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

companions; I call them not, and I know not what terrible 
curse binds them to my footsteps. The merciful God, as 
I would hope, is mindful of me the while, — as a faithful 
shepherd does not forget even the worst and most widely- 
straying of his flock, but calls after it with an anxious 
voice in the gloomy wilderness." 

Then the anger of the baron was quite melted. Two 
Dright tears stood in his eyes, and he said : " No, assur- 
edly, God has not forgotten thee; only do thou not forget 
thy gracious God. I did not come to rebuke thee — I 
came to bless thee in Gabrielle's name and in my own 
The Lord preserve thee, the Lord guide thee, the Lord litt 
thee up! And, Sintram, on the far-off shores of Normandy 
I shall bear thee in mind, and I shall hear how thou 
strugglest against the curse which weighs down thy un- 
happy life; and if thou ever shake it off, and stand as a 
noble conqueror over Sin and Death, then thou shalt re- 
ceive from me a token of love and reward, more precious 
than either thou or I can understand at this moment." 

The words flowed prophetically from the baron's lips ; 
he himself was only half-conscious of what he said. With 
a kind salutation he turned his noble steed, and again flew 
down the valley towards the sea-shore. 

" Fool, fool ! thrice a fool !" whispered the angry voice 
of the little Master in Sintram's ear. But old Rolf was 
singing his morning hymn in clear tones within the castle, 
and the last lines were these : — 

'• Whom worldlings scorn, 

Who lives forlorn, 

On God's own word doth rest ; 

With heavenly light 

His path is bright, 

His lot among the blest.'* 
Then a holy joy took possession of Sintram's heart, 
and he looked around him jet mure gladly than in the 
hour when Gabrielle gave him the scarf and sw T ord, and 
Folko dubbed him knight. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 99 



CHAPTER XXV. 

The baron* and his lovely lady were sailing across the 
broad sea with favouring gales of spring, nay the coast of 
Normandy had already appeared above the waves ; but still 
was Biorn of the Fiery Eyes sitting gloomy and speech- 
less in his castle. He had taken no leave of his guests. 
There was more of proud fear of Montfaucon than of 
reverential love for him in his soul, especially since the 
adventure with the boar's head ; and the thought was 
bitter to his haughty spirit, that the great baron, the 
flower and glory of their whole race, should have come 
in peace to visit him, and should now be departing in dis- 
pleasure, in stern reproachful displeasure. He had con- 
stantly before his mind, and it never failed to bring fresh 
pangs, the remembrance of how all had came to pass, and 
how all might have gone otherwise ; and he was always 
fancying he could hear the songs in w T hich after genera- 
tions would recount this voyage of the great Folko, and 
the worthlessness of the savage Biorn. At length, full of 
fierce anger, he cast away the fetters of his troubled spirit, 
he burst out of the castle with all his horsemen, and began 
to carry on a warfare more fearful and more lawless than 
any in which he had yet been engaged. 

Sintram heard the sound of his father's war-horn ; and 
committing the stone fortress to old Rolf, he sprang forth 
ready armed for the combat. But the flames of the cot- 
tages and farms on the mountains rose up before him, and 
shewed him, written as if in characters of fire, what kind 
of war his father was waging. Yet he went on towards 
the spot where the army was mustered, but only to offer 
his mediation, affirming that he would not lay his hand 
on his good sword in so abhorred a service, even though 
the stone fortress, and his father's castle besides, should 
fall before the vengeance of their enemies. Biorn hurled 
the spear which he held in his hand against his son with 



100 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

raad fury. The deadly weapon whizzed past him : Sin- 
tram remained standing with his vizor raised, he did not 
move one limb in his defence, when he said: u Father, 
do what you will ; but I join not in your godless warfare/' 

Biorn of the Fiery Eyes laughed scornfully : " It seems 
I am always to have a spy over me here ; my son succeeds 
to the dainty French knight !" But nevertheless he came 
to himself, accepted Sintram's mediation, made amends for 
the injuries he had done, and returned gloomily to his 
castle. Sintram went back to the Rocks of the Moon. 

Such occurrences were frequent after that time. It 
went so far that Sintram came to be looked upon as the 
protector of all those whom his father pursued with re- 
lentless fury ; but nevertheless sometimes his own wild- 
ness would carry the young knight away to accompany 
his fierce father in his fearful deeds. Then Biorn used 
to laugh with horrible pleasure, and to say : " See there, 
my son, how the flames we have lighted blaze up from 
the villages, as the blood spouts up from the wounds our 
swords have made ! It is plain to me, however much thou 
mayst pretend to the contrary, that thou art, and wilt 
ever remain, my true and beloved heir !" 

After thus fearfully erring, Sintram could find no com- 
fort but in hastening to the chaplain of Drontheim, and 
confessing to him his misery and his sins. The chaplain 
would freely absolve him, after due penance and repent- 
ance, and again raise up the broken-hearted youth ; but 
would often say : " Oh, how nearly hadst thou reached thy 
last trial, and gained the victory, and looked on Verena*s 
countenance, and atoned for all ! Now thou hast thrown 
thyself back for years. Think, my son, on the shortness 
of man's life ; if thou art always falling back anew, how 
wilt thou ever gain the summit on this side the grave V 

Years came and went, and Biorn's hair was white as 
snow, and the youth Sintram had reached the middle 
age. Old Rolf was now scarcely able to leave the stone 
fortress ; and sometimes he said : " I feel it a burden that 



SINTEAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 101 

my life should yet be prolonged; but also there is much 
comfort in it, for I still think the good God has in store 
for me here below some great happiness ; and it must be 
something in which you are concerned, my beloved Sir Sin- 
tram, for what else in the whole world could rejoice me ?" 

But all remained as it was, and Sintram' s fearful dreams 
at Christmas-time each year rather increased than dimi- 
nished in horror. Again the holy season was drawing 
near, and the mind of the sorely afflicted knight was more 
troubled than ever before. Sometimes, if he had been 
reckoning up the nights till it should come, a cold sweat 
would stand on his forehead, while he said, " Mark my 
words, dear old foster-father, this time something most 
awfully decisive lies before me." 

One evening be felt an overwhelming anxiety about 
his father. It seemed to him that the Prince of Darkness 
was going up to Biorn's castle ; and in vain did Rolf re- 
mind him that the snow was lying deep in the valleys, in 
vain did he suggest that the knight might be overtaken 
by his frightful dreams in the lonely mountains during the 
night-time. " Nothing can be worse to me than remain- 
ing here would be," replied Sintram. 

He took his horse from the stable and rode forth in the 
gathering darkness. The noble steed slipped and stumbled 
and fell in the trackless ways, but his rider always raised 
him up, and urged him only more swiftly and eagerly 
towards the object which he longed and yet dreaded to 
reach. Nevertheless he might never have arrived at it, 
had not his faithful hound Skovmark kept with him. The 
dog sought out the lost track for his beloved master, and 
invited him into it with joyous barkings, and warned him 
by his howls against precipices and treacherous ice under 
the snow. Thus they arrived about midnight at Biorn's 
castle. The windows of the hall shone opposite to them 
with a brilliant light, as though some great feast were 
kept there, and confused sounds, as of singing, met their 
ears. Sintram gave his horse hastily to some retainers in 



102 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

the court-yard, and ran up the steps, whilst Skovmark 
stayed by the well-known horse. 

A good esquire came towards Sintram within the castle, 
and said, " God be praised, my dear master, that you are 
come; for surely nothing good is going on above. But 
take heed to yourself also, and be not deluded. Your father 
has a guest with him,- — and, as I think, a hateful one." 

Sintram shuddered as he threw open the doors. A 
little man in the dress of a miner was sitting with his back 
towards him. The armour had been for some time past 
again ranged round the stone table, so that only two places 
were left empty. The seat opposite the door had been 
taken by Biorn of the Fiery Eyes ; and the dazzling light 
of the torches fell upon his features with so red a flare, 
that he perfectly enacted that fearfu. surname. 

" Father, whom have you here with you?" cried Sin- 
tram ; and his suspicions rose to certainty as the miner 
turned round, and the detestable face of the little Master 
grinned from under his dark hood. 

" Yes, just see, my fair son," said the wild Biorn ; 
" thou hast not been here for a long while, — and so to- 
night this jolly comrade has paid me a visit, and thy place 
has been taken. But throw one of the suits of armour 
out of the way, and put a seat for thyself instead of it, — 
and come and drink with us, and be merry." 

" Yes, do so, Sir Sintram," said the little Master, with 
a laugh. " Nothing worse could come of it than that the 
broken pieces of armour might clatter somewhat strangely 
together, or at most that the disturbed spirit of him to 
whom the suit belonged might look over your shoulder; 
but he would not drink up any of our wine — ghosts have 
nothing to do with that. So now fall to !" 

Biorn joined in the laughter of the hideous stranger 
with wild mirth ; and while Sintram was mustering up his 
whole strength not to lose his senses at so terrible words, 
and was fixing a calm steady look on the little Master's 
face, the old man cried out, " Why dost thou look at him 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 103 

so? Does it seem to thee as though thou sawest thyself 
in a mirror? Now that you are together, I do not see it 
so much; but a while ago I thought that you were like 
enough to each other to be mistaken." 

" God forbid !" said Sintram, walking up close to the 
fearful apparition : " I command thee, detestable stranger, 
to depart from this castle, in right of my authority as my 
father's heir, — as a consecrated knight and as a spirit V 

Biorn seemed as if he wished to oppose himself to this 
command with all his savage might. The little Master 
muttered to himself, " Thou art not by any means the 
master in this house, pious knight; thou hast never lighted 
a fire on this hearth." Then Sintram drew the sword w r hich 
Gabrielle had given him, held the cross of the hilt before 
the eyes of his evil guest, and said, calmly, but with a 
powerful voice, " Worship, or fly \" And he fled, the fright- 
ful stranger, — he fled with such lightning speed, that it 
could scarcely be seen whether he had sprung through the 
window or the door. But in going he overthrew some of 
the armour, the tapers went out, and it seemed that the 
pale blue flame which lighted up the hall in a marvellous 
manner gave a fulfilment to the little Master's former words : 
and that the spirits of those to whom the armour had be- 
longed were leaning over the table, grinning fearfully. 

Both the father and the son were filled with horror 
but each chose an opposite way to save himself. Biorn 
wished to have his hateful guest back again ; and the 
power of his will was seen when the little Master's step 
resounded anew on the stairs, and his brown shrivelled 
hand shook the lock of the door. On the other hand, 
Sintram ceased not to say within himself, " We are lost, 
if he come back! We are lost to all eternity, if he come 
back !" And he fell on his knees, and prayed fervently 
from his troubled heart to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 
Then the little Master left the door, and again Biorn willed 
him to return, and again Sintram's prayers drove him 
away. So went on this strife of wills throughout the long 



104 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



night ; and howling whirlwinds raged the while around 
the castle, till all the household thought the end of the 
world was come. At length the dawn of morning ap- 
peared through the windows of the hall, — the fury of the 
storm was lulled, — Biorn sank back powerless in slumber 
on his seat, — peace and hope came to the inmates of the 
castle, — and Sintram, pale and exhausted, went out to 
breathe the dewy air of the mild winter's morning before 
the castle-gates 




SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 105 



CHAPTER XXYI. 

The faithful Skovmark followed his master, caressing 
him; and when Sintram fell asleep on a stone-seat in the 
wall, he lay at his feet, keeping watchful guard. Sud- 
denly he pricked up his ears, looked round with delight, 
and bounded joyfully down the mountain. Just afterwards 
the chaplain of Drontheim appeared amongst the rocks, 
and the good beast went up to him as if to greet him, and 
then again ran back to the knight to announce the wel- 
come visitor. 

Sintram opened his eyes, as a child whose Christmas- 
gifts have been placed at his bed-side. For the chaplain 
smiled at him as he had never yet seen him smile. There 
was in it a token of victory and blessing, or at least of 
the near approach of both. " Thou hast done much yes- 
terday, very much," said the holy priest; and his hands 
were joined, and his eyes full of bright tears. " I praise 
God for thee, my noble knight. Verena knows all, and 
she too praises God for thee. I do indeed now dare hope 
that the time will soon come when thou mayst appear 
before her. But Sintram, Sir Sintram, there is need of 
haste ; for the old man above requires speedy aid, and thou 
hast still a heavy — as I hope the last — yet a most heavy 
trial to undergo for his sake. Arm thyself, my knight, 
arm thyself even with bodily weapons. In truth, this time 
only spiritual armour is needed, but it always befits a 
knight, as well as a monk, to wear in decisive moments 
the entire solemn garb of his station. If it so please thee, 
we will go directly to Drontheim together. Thou must 
return thence to-night. Such is a part of the hidden de- 
cree, which has been dimly unfolded to Verena's foresight. 
Here there is yet much that is wild and distracting, and 
thou hast great need to-day of calm preparation." 

With humble joy Sintram bowed his assent, and called 
for his horse and for a suit of armour. " Only," added 



106 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

he, " let not any of that armour be brought which was 
last night overthrown in the hall !" 

His orders were quickly obeyed. The arms which 
were fetched, adorned with fine engraved work, the simple 
helmet, formed rather like that of an esquire than a knight, 
the lance of almost gigantic size, which belonged to the 
suit — on all these the chaplain gazed in deep thought and 
with melancholy emotion. At last, when Sintram, with 
the help of his esquires, was well nigh equipped, the holy 
priest spoke : 

" Wonderful providence of God! See, dear Sintram, 
this armour and this spear were formerly those of Sir 
Weigand the Slender, and with them he did many mighty 
deeds. When he was tended by your mother in the 
castle, and when even your father still shewed himself 
kind towards him, he asked, as a favour, that his armour 
and his lance should be allowed to hang in Biorn's ar- 
mory — Weigand himself, as you well know, intended to 
build a cloister and to live there as a monk — and he put 
his old esquire's helmet with it, instead of another, because 
he was yet wearing that one when he first saw the fair 
Verena's angelic face. How wondrously does it now come 
to pass, that these very arms, which have so long been laid 
aside, should be brought to you for the decisive hour of 
your life ! To me, as far as my short-sighted human wis- 
dom can tell, — to me it seems truly a very solemn token, 
but one full of high and glorious promise." 

Sintram stood now in complete array, composed and 
stately, and, from his tall slender figure, might have been 
taken for a youth, had not the deep lines of care which 
furrowed his countenance shewn him to be advanced in 
years. 

" Who has placed boughs on the head of my war- 
horse?" asked Sintram of the esquires, with displeasure. 
" I am not a conqueror, nor a wedding-guest. And be- 
sides, there are no boughs now but those red and yellow 
crackling oak-leaves, dull and dead like the season itself/* 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 107 

" Sir Knight, I know not myself," answered an es- 
quire ; " but it seemed to me that it must be so." 

" Let it be," said the chaplain. " I feel that this also 
comes as a token full of meaning from the right source." 

Then the knight threw himself into his saddle; the 
priest went beside him; and they both rode slowly and 
silently towards Drontheim. The faithful dog followed 
his master. When the lofty castle of Drontheim appeared 
in sight, a gentle smile spread itself over Sintram's coun- 
tenance, like sunshine over a wintry valley. 

"God has done great things for me," said he. "I 
once rushed from here, a fearfully wild boy ; I now come 
back a penitent man. I trust that it will yet go well with 
my poor troubled life." 

The chaplain assented kindly, and soon afterwards the 
travellers passed under the echoing vaulted gateway into 
the castle-yard. At a sign from the priest, the retainers 
approached with respectful haste, and took charge of the 
horse ; then he and Sintram went through long winding 
passages and up many steps to the remote chamber which 
the chaplain had chosen for himself; far away from the 
noise of men, and near to the clouds and the stars. There 
the two passed a quiet day in devout prayer, and earnest 
reading of Holy Scripture. 

When the evening began to close in, the chaplain arose 
and said: "And now, my knight, get ready thy horse, 
and mount and ride back again to thy father's castle. A 
toiisome way lies before thee, and I dare not go with you. 
But I can and will call upon the Lord for you all through 
the long fearful night. beloved instrument of the Most 
High, thou wilt yet not be lost !" 

Thrilling with strange forebodings, but nevertheless 
strong and vigorous in spirit, Sintram did according to the 
holy man's desire. The sun set as the knight approached 
a long valley, strangely shut in by rocks, through which 
lay the road to his father's castle. 



108 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

Before entering the rocky pass, the knight, with a prayer 
and thanksgiving, looked back once more at the castle of 
Drontheim. There it was, so vast and quiet and peace- 
ful ; the bright windows of the chaplain's high chamber 
yet lighted up by the last gleam of the sun, which had 
already disappeared. In front of Sintram was the gloomy 
valley, as if his grave. Then there came towards him 
some one riding on a small horse; and Skovmark, who 
had gone up to the stranger as if to find out who he was, 
now ran back with his tail between his legs and his ears 
put back, howling and whining, and crept, terrified, under 
his master's war-horse. But even the noble steed appeared 
to have forgotten his once so fearless and warlike ardour. 
He trembled violently, and when the knight would have 
turned him towards the stranger, he reared and snorted 
and plunged, and began to throw himself backwards. It 
was only with difficulty that Sintram's strength and horse- 
manship got the better of him ; and he was all white 
with foam when Sintram came up to the unknown tra- 
veller. 

" You have cowardly beasts with you," said the latter, 
in a low, smothered voice. 

Sintram was unable, in the ever-increasing darkness, 
rightly to distinguish what kind of being he saw before 
him ; only a very pallid face, which at first he had thought 
was covered w T ith freshly fallen snow, met his eyes from 
amidst, the long, hanging garments. It seemed that the 
stranger carried a small box wrapped up ; his little horse, 
as if wearied out, bent his head down towards the ground, 
whereby a bell, which hung from the wretched torn bridle 
under his neck, was made to give a strange sound. After 
a short silence, Sintram replied : " Noble steeds avoid 
those of a worse race, because they are ashamed of them; 
and the boldest dogs are attacked by a secret terror at 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 109 

sight of forms to which they are not accustomed. I have 
no cowardly beasts with me." 

" Good, sir knight; then ride with me through the 
valley." 

"lam going through the valley, but I want no com- 
panions." 

" But perhaps I want one. Do you not see that I am 
unarmed? And at this season, at this hour, there are 
frightful, unearthly beasts about." 

Just then, as though to confirm the awful words of 
the stranger, a thing swung itself down from one of the 
nearest trees, covered with hoar-frost, — no one could say if 
it were a snake or a lizard, — it curled and twisted itself, 
and appeared about to slide down upon the knight or his 
companion. Sintram levelled his spear, and pierced the 
creature through. But, with the most hideous contortions, 
it fixed itself firmly on the spear-head ; and in vain did the 
knight endeavour to rub it off against the rocks or the 
trees. Then he let his spear rest upon his right shoulder, 
with the point behind him, so that the horrible beast no 
longer met his sight ; and he said, with good courage, to 
the stranger, u It does seem, indeed, that 1 could help you, 
and I am not forbidden to have an unknown stranger in 
my company ; so let us push on bravely into the valley !" 

" Help I" so resounded the solemn answer ; " not help. 
I perhaps may help thee. But God have mercy upon thee 
if the time should ever come when I could no longer help 
thee. Then thou wouldst be lost, and I should become 
very frightful to thee. But we will go through the valley 
— I have thy knightly word for it. Come !" 

They rode forward ; Sintram's horse still shewing signs 
of fear, the faithful dog still whining; but both obedient 
to their master's will. The knight was calm and stedfast. 
The snow had slipped down from the smooth rocks, and 
by the light of the rising moon could be seen various 
strange twisted shapes on their sides, some looking like 
snakes, and some like human faces ; but they were only 



110 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

formed by the veins in the rock and the half-bare roots ot 
trees, which had planted themselves in that desert place 
with capricious firmness. High above and at a great dis- 
tance, the castle of Drontheim, as if to take leave, appeared 
again through an opening in the rocks. The knight then 
looked keenly at his companion, and he almost felt as if 
Weigand the Slender were riding beside him. 

"In God's name/' cried he, " art thou not the shade of 
that departed knight who suifered and died for Verena ?" 

" I have not suffered, I have not died; but ye suffer, 
and ye die, poor mortals !'' murmured the stranger. " I 
am not Weigand. I am that other, who was so like 
him, and whom thou hast also met before now in the 
wood." 

Sintram strove to free himself from the terror which 
came over him at these words. He looked at his horse ; 
it appeared to him entirely altered. The dry, many-co- 
loured oak-leaves on its head were waving like the flames 
around a sacrifice, in the uncertain moonlight. He looked 
down again, to see after his faithful Skovmark. Fear had 
likewise most wondrously changed him. On the ground 
in the middle of the road were lying dead men's bones, 
and hideous lizards were crawling about ; and, in defiance 
of the wintry season, poisonous mushrooms were growing 
up all around. 

" Can this be still my horse on which I am riding? 7 ' 
said the knight to himself, in a low voice ; " and can that 
trembling beast which runs at my side be my dog?" 

Then some one called after him, in a yelling voice, 
" Stop ! stop ! Take me also with you !" 

Looking round, Sintram perceived a small, frightful 
figure with horns, and a face partly like a wild boar and 
partly like a bear, walking along on its hind-legs, which 
were those of a horse ; and in its hand was a strange, hide- 
ous weapon, shaped like a hook or a sickle. It was the 
being who had been wont to trouble him in his dreams ; 
and, alas ! it was also the wretched little Master himself, 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. Ill 

who, laughing wildl}^ stretched out a long claw towards 
the knight. 

The bewildered Sintram murmured, " I must have 
fallen asleep ; and now my dreams are coming over me !" 

" Thou art awake," replied the rider of the little horse, 
"but thou knowest me also in thy dreams. For, behold: 
I am Death." And his garments fell from him, and there 
appeared a mouldering skeleton, its ghastly head crowned 
with serpents; that which he had kept hidden under his 
mantle was an hour-glass with the sand almost run out. 
Death held it towards the knight in his fleshless hand. 
The bell at the neck of the little horse gave forth a solemn 
sound. It was a passing bell. 

" Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit \" prayed 
Sintram ; and full of earnest devotion he rode after Death, 
who beckoned him on. 

" He has thee not yet ! He has thee not yet !" screamed 
the fearful fiend. " Give thyself up to me rather. In one 
instant, — for swift are thy thoughts, swift is my might, 
— in one instant thou shalt be in Normandy. Helen yet 
blooms in beauty as when she departed hence, and this very 
night she would be thine." And once again he began his 
unholy praises of Gabrielle's loveliness, and Sin tram's heart 
glowed like wild-fire in his weak breast. 

Death said nothing more, but raised the hour-glass in 
his right hand yet higher and higher; and as the sand now 
ran out more quickly, a soft light streamed from the glass 
over Sintram *s countenance, and then it seemed to him as 
if eternity in all its calm majesty were rising before him, 
and a world of confusion dragging him back with a deadly 
grasp. 

" I command thee, wild form that followest me," cried 
he, " I command thee, in the name of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, to cease from thy seducing words, and to call 
thyself by that name by which thou art recorded in Holy 
Writ I" 

A name, more fearful than a thunderclap, burst de- 



112 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

spairingly from the lips of the Tempter, and he disap- 
peared, 

" He will return no more,'' said Death in a kindly 
tone. 

" And now I am become wholly thine, my stern com- 
panion V 

u Not yet, my Sintram. I shall not come to thee till 
many, many years are past. But thou must not forget 
me the while. " 

" I will keep the thought of thee steadily before my 
soul, thou fearful yet wholesome monitor, thou awful yet 
loving guide!" 

" Oh ! I can truly appear very gentle." 

And so it proved indeed. His form became more softly 
defined in the increasing gleam of light which shone from 
the hour-glass ; the features, which had been awful in their 
sternness, wore a gentle smile ; the crown of serpents be- 
came a bright palm-wreath ; instead of the horse appeared 
a white misty cloud in the moonlight ; and the bell gave 
forth sounds as of sweet lullabies. Sintram thought he 
could hear these words amidst them : 

" The world and Satan are o'ercome. 
Before thee gleams eternal light, 
Warrior, who hast won the strife : 
Save from darkest shades of night 
Him before whose aged eyes 
All my terrors soon shall rise." 

The knight well knew that his father was meant ; and 
he urged on his noble steed, which now obeyed his master 
willingly and gladly, and the faithful dog also again ran 
beside him fearlessly. Death had disappeared ; but in front 
of Sintram there floated a bright morning-cloud, which 
continued visible after the sun had risen clear and warm 
In the bright winter sky. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 113 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

" He is dead ! the horrors of that fearful stormy night 
have killed him \" Thus said, about this time, some of 
Biorn's retainers, who had not been able to bring him back 
to his senses since the morning of the day before : they 
had made a couch of wolf and bear skins for him in the 
£reat hall, in the midst of the armour which still lay scat- 
tered around. One of the esquires said with alow sigh: 
" The Lord have mercy on his poor wild soul V 7 

Just then the warder blew his horn from his tower, and 
a trooper came into the room with a look of surprise. 
" A knight is coming hither,'' said he; u a wonderful 
knight. I could have taken him for our Lord Sintram — 
but a bright, bright morning cloud floats so close before 
him, and throws over him such clear light, that one could 
fancy red flowers were showered down upon him. Besides, 
his horse has a wreath of red leaves on his head, which 
was never a custom of the son of our dead lord." 

k ' Just such a one," replied another, " I wove for him 
yesterday. He was not pleased with it at first, but after- 
wards he let it remain." 

" But why didst thou that ?" 

" It seemed to me as if I heard a voice singing again 
and again in my ear : ' Victory ! victory ! the noblest vic- 
tory ! The knight rides forth to victory V And then I saw 
a branch of our oldest oak-tree stretched towards me, 
which had kept on almost all its red and yellow leaves 
in spite of the snow. So I did according to what I had 
heard sung ; and I plucked some of the leaves, and wove 
a triumphal wreath for the noble war-horse. At the same 
time Skovmark, — you know that the faithful beast had 
always a great dislike to Biorn, and therefore had gone to 
the stable with the horse, — Skovmark jumped upon me, 
fawning, and seemed pleased, as if he wanted to thank me 

I 



114 SINTIiAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

for my work ; and such noble animals understand well 
about good prognostics." 

They heard the sound of Sintram's spurs on the stone 
steps, and Skovmark's joyous bark. At that instant the 
supposed corpse of old Biorn sat up, looked around with 
rolling, staring eyes, and asked of the terrified retainers 
in a hollow voice, " Who comes there, ye people ? who 
comes there ? I know it is my son. But who comes with 
him ? The answer to that bears the sword of decision in 
its mouth. For see, good people, Gotthard and Rudlieb 
have prayed much for me; yet if the little Master come 
with him, I am lost in spite of them." 

" Thou art not lost, my beloved father !" Sintram's 
kind voice was heard to say, as he softly opened the 
door, and the bright red morning cloud floated in with 
him. 

Biorn joined his hands, cast a look of thankfulness up 
to heaven, and said, smiling, "Yes, praised be God! it is 
the right companion ! It is sweet gentle death ! ,f And 
then he made a sign to his son to approach, saying, "Come 
here, my deliverer ; come, blessed of the Lord, that I may 
relate to thee all that has passed within me." 

As Sintram now sat close by his father's couch, all 
who were in the room perceived a remarkable and strik- 
ing change. For old Biorn, whose whole countenance, 
and not his eyes alone, had been wont to have a fiery 
aspect, was now quite pale, almost like white marble ;. 
while, on the other hand, the cheeks of the once deadly- 
pale Sintram glowed with a bright bloom like that of early 
youth. It was caused by the morning eloud which still 
shone upon him, whose presence in the room was rather 
felt than seen ; but it produced a gentle thrill in every 
heart. 

" See, my son," began the old man, softly and mildly, 
u I have lain for a long time in a death-like sleep, and 
have known nothing of what was going on around me ; 
but within, — ah ! within, I have known but too much ! I 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 115 

thought that my soul would be destroyed by the eternal 
anguish ; and yet again I felt, with much greater horror, 
that my soul was eternal like that anguish. Beloved son, 
thy cheeks that glowed so brightly are beginning to grow 
pale at my words. I refrain from more. But let me 
relate to you something more cheering. Far, far away, 
I could see a bright lofty church, where Gotthard and 
Rudlieb Lenz were kneeling and praying for me. Gott- 
hard had grown very old, and looked almost like one of 
our mountains covered with snow, on which the sun, in 
the lovely evening hours, is shining ; and Rudlieb was 
also an elderly man, but very vigorous and very strong ; 
and they both, with all their strength and vigour, were 
calling upon God to aid me, their enemy. Then I heard 
a voice like that of an angel, saying ; i His son does the 
most for him ! He must this night wrestle with death 
and with the fallen one ! His victory will be victory, 
and his defeat will be defeat, for the old man and him- 
self/ Thereupon I awoke ; and I knew that all depended 
upon whom thou wouldst bring with thee. Thou hast 
conquered. Next to God, the praise be to thee I" 

" Gotthard and Rudlieb have helped much," replied 
Sintram; " and, beloved father, so have the fervent prayers 
of the chaplain of Drontheim. I felt, when struggling with 
temptation and deadly fear, how the heavenly breath of 
holy men floated round me and aided me." 

u I am most willing to believe that, my noble son, and 
every thing thou sayest to me," answered the old man ; 
and at the same moment the chaplain also coming in, 
Biorn stretched out his hand towards him with a smile 
of peace and joy. And now all seemed to be surrounded 
with a bright circle of unity and blessedness. " But see," 
said old Biorn, " how the faithful Skovmark jumps upon 
me now, and tries to caress me. It is not long since he 
used always to howl with terror when he saw me." 

" My dear lord," said the chaplain, " there is a spirit 
dwelling in good boasts, though dreamy ana unconscious." 



116 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

As the day wore on, the stillness in the hall increased. 
The last hour of the aged knight was drawing near, but 
he met it calmly and fearlessly. The chaplain and Sin- 
tram prayed beside his couch. The retainers knelt de- 
voutly around. At length the dying man said : " Is that 
the prayer-bell in Verena's cloister?" Sintram's looks 
said yea ; while warm tears fell on the colourless cheeks 
of his father. A gleam shone in the old man's eyes, the 
morning cloud stood close over him, and then the gleam, 
the morning cloud, and life with them, departed from 
him. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

A few days afterwards Sintram stood in the parlour of 
the convent, and waited with a beating heart for his 
mother to appear. He had seen her for the last time 
when, a slumbering child, he had been aw T akened by her 
warm farewell kisses, and then had fallen asleep again, to 
wonder in his dreams what his mother had wanted with 
him, and to seek her in vain the next morning in the castle 
and in the garden. The chaplain was now at his side, re- 
joicing in the chastened rapture of the knight, whose fierce 
spirit had been softened, on whose cheeks a light reflection 
of that solemn morning cloud yet lingered. 

The inner doors opened. In her white veil, stately 
and noble, the Lady Verena came forward, and with a 
heavenly smile she beckoned her son to approach the grat- 
ing. There could be no thought here of any passionate 
outbreak, whether of sorrow or of joy.* The holy peace 

* " In whose sweet presence sorrow dares not lower, 
Nor expectation rise 
Too high for earth." 

Christian Year. 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 



117 



which had its abode within these walls would have found 
its way to a heart less tried and less purified, than that 
which beat in Sintram's bosom. Shediing some placid 
tears, the son knelt before his mother, kissed her flowing 
garments through the grating, and felt as if in paradise, 
where every wish and every care is hushed. " Beloved 
mother/' said he, " let me become a holy man, as thou art 
a holy woman. Then I will betake myself to the cloister 
yonder ; and perhaps I might one day be deemed worthy 
to be thy confessor, if illness or the weakness of old age 
should keerj the good chaplain within the castle of Dron- 
theim." 

" That would be a sweet, quietly-happy life, my good 
child,' 7 replied the Lady Verena; " but such is not thy 
vocation. Thou must remam a bold, powerful knight, 
and thou must spend the long life, which is almost always 
granted to us children of the north, in succouring the 
weak, in keeping down the lawless, and in yet another 
more bright and honourable employment which I hitherto 
rather honour than know." 

" God's will be done !" said the knight, and he rose up 
full of self-devotion and firmness. 

" That is my good son," said the Lady Verena. " Ah ! 
how many sweet calm joys spring up for us ! See already 
is our longing desire of meeting again satisfied, and thou 
wilt never more be so entirely estranged from me. Every 
week on this day thou wilt come back to me, and thou 
wilt relate what glorious deeds thou hast done, and take 
back with thee my advice and my blessing." 

" Am I not once more a good and happy child !" cried 
Sintram joyously ; " only that the merciful God has given 
"me in addition the strength of a man in body and spirit. 
Oh, how blessed is that son to whom it is allowed to 
gladden his mother's heart with the blossoms and the 
fruit of his life !" 

Thus he left the quiet cloister's shade, joyful in spirit 
and richly laden with blessings, to enter on his noble 



118 SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

career. He was not content with going about wherever 
there might be a rightful cause to defend or evil to avert ; 
the gates of the now hospitable castle stood always open 
also to receive and shelter every stranger; and old Rolf, 
who was almost grown young again at the sight of his 
lord's excellence, was established as seneschal. The winter 
of Sintram's life set in bright and glorious, and it was 
only at times that he would sigh within himself and say, 
" Ah, Montfaucon ! ah, Gabrielle ! if I could dare to hope 
that you have quite forgiven me !" 



CHAPTER XXX. 

The spring had come in its brightness to the northern 
lands, when one morning Sintram turned his horse home- 
wards, after a successful encounter with one of the most 
formidable disturbers of the peace of his neighbourhood. 
His horsemen rode after him, singing as they w r ent. As 
they drew near the castle, they heard the sound of joyous 
notes wound on the horn. " Some welcome visitor must 
have arrived/' said the knight ; and he spurred his horse 
to a quicker pace over the dewy meadow. While still at 
some distance, they descried old Rolf, busily engaged in 
preparing a table for the morning-meal, under the trees in 
front of the castle-gates. From all the turrets and bat- 
tlements floated banners and flags in the fresh morning 
breeze : esquires were running to and fro in their gayest 
apparel. As soon as the good Rolf saw his master, he 
clapped his hands joyfully over his grey head, and hast- 
ened into the castle. Immediately the wide gates were 
thrown open ; and Sintram, as he entered, was met by 
Rolf, whose eyes were filled with tears of joy while he 
pointed towards three noble forms that were following 



SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS. 119 

Two men of high stature — one in extreme old age, the 
other grey headed, and both remarkably alike — were lead- 
ing between them a fair young boy, in a page's dress of 
blue velvet, richly embroidered with gold. The two old 
men wore the dark velvet dress of German burghers, and 
had massive gold chains and large shining medals hanging 
round their necks. 

Sintram had never before seen his honoured guests, 
and yet he felt as if they were well known and valued 
friends. The very aged man reminded him of his dying 
father's words about the snow-covered mountains lighted 
up by the evening sun ; and then he remembered, he 
could scarcely tell how, that he had heard Folko say that 
one of the highest mountains of that sort in his southern 
land was called the St. Gotthard. And at the same time, 
he knew that the old but yet vigorous man on the other 
side was named Rudlieb. But the boy who stood between 
them ; ah ! Sintram's humility dared scarcely form a hope 
as to who he might be, however much his features, so 
noble and soft, called up two highly honoured images be- 
fore his mind. 

Then the aged Gotthard Lenz, the king of old men, 
advanced with a solemn step, and said — " This is the 
noble boy Engeltram of Montfaucon, the only son of the 
great baron ; and his father and mother send him to you, 
Sir Sintram, knowing well your holy and glorious knightly 
career, that you may bring him up to all the honourable 
and valiant deeds of this northern land, and may make of 
him a Christian knight, like yourself." 

Sintram threw himself from his horse. Engeltram of 
Montfaucon held the stirrup gracefully for him, checking 
the retainers, who pressed forward, with these words: " I 
am the noblest born esquire of this knight, and the service 
nearest to his person belongs to me." 

Sintram knelt in silent prayer on the turf; then lift- 
ing up in his arms, towards the rising sun, the image of 
Folko and Gabrielle, he cried, "With the help of God, 



f 



I 



my Engeltram, thou wilt become glorious as 
that sun, and thy course will be like his ! " 

And old Eolf exclaimed, as he wept for joy, 
" Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in 
peace." 

Gotthard Lenz and Eudlieb were pressed to 
Sintram's heart ; the chaplain of Drontheim, vv T ho 
just then came from Verena's cloister to bring a 
joyful greeting to her brave son, stretched out 
his hands to bless them all. 





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